Agents and Hunters
by sg2009
Summary: Crossover with NCIS. People who work in Abby's lab are never what they seem. And Sam is no exception.
1. Chapter 1

"What'cha got, Ducky?" Agent Gibbs asked as he entered autopsy.

"Jethro…" Dr. 'Ducky' Mallard looked up. A man was laid across the metal exam table, bloated and gray. Ducky tapped the body's muscular arm. "The poor fellow's cause of death is quite simple…" The doctor moved around the body, prying open an eyelid and frowning.

"Duck…I'm waiting."

"Sorry. But it's extraordinary, really. It seems our unfortunate petty officer…drowned."

"Drowned?" Gibbs barked. "He was found in his living room."

The doctor hummed his agreement. "And yet there is no doubt that the poor fellow succumbed in such a manner. However, that in itself is not so unusual. Why, when I was studying in Edinburgh, a professor in the literature department managed to drown in a bucket containing only half a centimeter of…"

Gibbs cut him off. "The point, Duck."

"Right. Well, the strange thing about our victim is that the amount of liquid in his lungs and the effects on the soft tissues of his body are more consistent with submersion in a large quantity of fluid, not a happenstance drowning in a puddle or even bathtub. And I doubt there were such depths of water inside our young officer's home."

"So he wasn't killed in his house."

"That, Jethro, I'm afraid is outside my area of expertise." He sighed looking down at the body. "However, I sent Mr. Palmer upstairs to our brilliant Abigail for analysis of the fluid from the lungs. Maybe that will provide you with some answers…" The doctor glanced up. Agent Gibbs was gone. He sighed, turning towards the corpse. "I suppose that just leaves you and me. Now, young man, how did you manage to get yourself into this unfortunate state?"

**

Gibbs heard voices as he entered Abby's lab. His forensic scientist sounded put out.

"You're not here." She said. "I don't see you. I don't hear you. I am the only person in here."

"Look…" Said another voice, young and male. "Ms. Sciuto, it's just for a few days. I need this for my graduate work." He sounded earnest. "If you would give me a chance…"

"Okay, you look, whoever you are…" Abby didn't like strangers in her lab. She was territorial like that.

"Sam. I'm Sam." Exasperation was evident in the young man's tone.

"Whatever." Abby didn't seem to care. "I don't work well with others. I don't care who gave you permission to shadow me. If I can't make you leave, I'm going to pretend like you don't exist."

Gibbs rounded the corner. Abby's goth wear was spectacularly black and red. She had on four inch platform heels which put her close to Gibbs height. The guy she was talking to stood slightly hunched over like he was hiding his height, and he still had several inches on them both. He was dressed cheaply in jeans and several layers of shirts. He looked up as Gibbs entered the room.

"Gibbs!" Abby shouted in a relieved voice as he walked up. She ran to him and put her arms around him. "You've got to do something. I can't have someone stranger messing in my lab."

The young man, mid twenties Gibbs guessed, smiled sweetly and stepped towards him. "It's just for a few days…" He fumbled in his bag, pulling out a stack of paperwork. "It's important...for my degree. And I have permission. I promise I won't be any trouble…" He turned towards Abby. "Please, Ms. Sciuto…" He smiled again.

"No dimpling at me. That's not going to work." Abby looked at Gibbs – the plea evident in her face. "Make him go, Gibbs."

Gibbs peered at Sam. "I wasn't notified anyone would be working with Abby."

"Um…yeah." The young man fumbled with his shirts. "They didn't think you'd agree?" His voice sounded uncertain.

Gibbs stared at him and the young man fidgeted under his gaze. He seemed harmless enough. But his layers looked like they hid a muscular form. Gibbs grabbed the papers. "These look in order, Abs?" Gibbs said. Abby nodded, frowning. Sam shifted nervously in front on them. "Hmmm." He'd get them rechecked.

"Uh…Okay. I mean…yes sir. I can stay then?" Sam waited.

"Yep." Gibbs said.

Abby huffed, crossing her arms. "Gibbs…" She said, unhappiness twisting in her tone.

Gibbs turned towards Sam. "As long as you can convince Abby to keep you by the end of the day." He said. Abby grinned in Sam's direction, triumph written in her features.

The young man grimaced. "But…I have permission…"

"As long as Abby agrees..." He said.

"Yes sir. The end of the day." Sam shook his head. Gibbs turned to focus only on Abby. "You got anything for me on the water sample, Abs."

"Gibbs." Abby said, her tone turning playful now that she had permission to dismiss Sam later. "Palmer brought me the sample fifteen minutes ago. And since then I've been dealing with…" She waved in Sam's direction. "This."

The young man remained judiciously silent. Gibbs was impressed he knew when to keep quiet.

"Abs. I need to know everything I can about how and where the petty officer drowned."

"Patience, Gibbs." Abby smiled. She patted the large instrument against the wall. "General Mass Spec has been grumpy this morning."

"When, Abby?"

Abby sighed. "Maybe three hours." She cut a glare at Sam. "Assuming no one gets in my way."

"Three hours?" Gibbs huffed. "Okay." His phone rang as he turned to go. "Gibbs." He answered. "Yeah. Where?" He paused. "On my way." He turned back to Abby.

"Just get on it, Abs." He said, sounding harsh.

"What happened, Gibbs?" She asked. Sam looked curious beside her.

Gibbs frowned. "We've got another one."

**

Three hours and one dead, bloated marine later, Gibbs strode into the forensics lab holding a Caf-Pow. Abby was smiling up at Sam who was saying something about a protective tattoo.

"Whatcha got, Abs?" Gibbs said. He spared a glance at Sam, surprised his scientist seemed to be warming to him. Abby's face lit up when she saw him.

"Oh, Gibbs, I've got a lot." Abby reached for the large cup, but Gibbs kept it out of reach.

"Like?" He asked.

"Like the water in his lungs was filled with various freshwater protozoans and algae. That basically limits the place where he drowned to ponds and lakes in the areas. Based on the types of critters we found, it also would be a stagnant or still lake. So we can eliminate most of the rivers or streams in the areas."

"Okay. And?" Gibbs said.

Abby shot Sam a brilliant smile. "And. There's a paper plant near the petty officer's home. Based on a fifty mile search area, we extrapolated the expected amounts of certain nitrates and phosphates per area away from the plant. Then we compared that to the amount of those same chemicals in the sample from the lungs and matched it up to a current hydrology study in the area."

"Which means what?"

"Which means…" Abby said motioning to Sam. He pulled up a map on her computer screen. "Sam and I have determined two possible drowning sites for the victim." She pointed to the map. "Here or here."

Gibbs handed her the drink. "Good work, Abs."

A ringing sound came from Sam's jacket. "Oh. Sorry." He said pulling it out. He glanced at it and then at them. "I…ah…need to take this. It's my brother and see he's…well." He looked at them both again. "So, can I come back?"

Abby gave him a firm head nod. "See you tomorrow, Sam." She said

Sam smiled. "Yeah. Good. Bye, Abby." He turned nodded towards Gibbs. "Agent Gibbs."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam stepped over the curb and walked up to the Starlight motel. He unlocked room thirty-two. Inside, the walls were an appalling dark blue. The beds were dressed in the same dreary color and the only breaks in the monochrome space were the large yellow stars that were splattered on the comforters. His brother was sprawled on the closest bed with his hand gripping the pistol under the pillow. Sam hoped he'd managed to sleep some while he'd been gone. His brother opened his eyes as Sam came into view. He looked rested. Or maybe it was restless. Not tired, anyway. So Sam counted that as a win.

"So, how'd it go?" Dean said, sitting up. "You get your geek on with the forensics chick?"

"Her name is Abby, Dean." Sam could care less about his snide tone. He sat down beside Dean on the bed and stretched out his long legs.

Dean stared at him for a moment. Then his brother smirked, waggling his eyebrows. "Oh, little Sammy has a little crush."

"Grow up, man." Sam threw a pillow at his head and sighed. He felt electrified – like something wasn't right. "This is a really, really bad idea. I can't believe you talked me into this."

"This is a great idea, Sam. We need information. They have information. They want to stop these deaths. We can do that."

"I don't know, Dean." Sam traced the starburst on the comforter with his finger. "They find out who I am…" His voice trailed off as images of running from every badge in the country floated into his mind. They had enough to worry about with most of hell and half of heaven gunning for them. He fixed his eyes at his brother. "The last thing we need is to end up back on the federal government's most wanted list. I'd prefer it if they keep thinking were dead."

Dean made a dismissive hiss. "Freakin' Feds, Sam. When have they ever figured anything out? Don't worry about it. Those papers will hold up. Bobby said so." Dean patted his knee and stood up. "Look, we'll get the information, kill the monster, and they'll never have a clue. It's a win, win…win."

Sam's instincts prickled. "I guess." His said with uncertainty in his tone. "It's just Abby is as smart as they get..."

"Abby, right…" Dean leaned against the dark wall, his features striking against it. "So what does she look like? Hot little librarian type or maybe…"

"And…" Sam cut him off. And, yeah, there was no way was he telling Dean the forensic scientist was a sunny, goth number in platform shoes and black clothes. Sam didn't know what his brother would do with that information, but he was convinced it would end in merciless ribbing for Sam. He wouldn't hear the end of it for years…well…if they managed to live that long. He raised his voice. "Gibbs has that capable, marine vibe. Complete with the scary Dad stare and everything. I doubt much gets past him."

Dean shrugged. "Capable and fed? Dude, isn't that an oxymoron or something." Sam glanced at him, unable to hide the surprise on his face. Dean huffed. "Yeah, Einstein, I know what it means. Anyway, aren't you putting out the full-on gentle giant routine. Just keep giving them the big, sad eyes and sweet, little smile thing. That always fools 'em."

Sam frowned, staring at the stars on the bed. In the past, he hadn't thought of that persona as an act. His hunter life – that used to be the other him, the part of him that wasn't real. His face wrinkled into a frown. When had everything gotten so turned around?

Dean mistook his dismay for something else. "He won't find out." His brother said with conviction in his tone. Sam thought about that. His gut wasn't so sure.

"I asked Abby about him."

"Yeah. And?"

"And she didn't say much. Clearance or something. But she mentioned he used to be a marine sniper." Sam watched his brother. Dean seemed reluctantly impressed. Sam rubbed his hand through his hair, trying to keep the annoyance off his face. His brother was definitely missing the point here. Sam continued. "I don't want a damn sniper after us, Dean. And I don't want the feds hunting us along with everything else."

Dean shrugged. "Then don't get caught. And don't piss him off. End of story." Dean shifted, frowning at the dark walls. His work face fell over his features. "So, what did you find out?"

Sam let a long suffering sigh puff from his lips. "Well. I don't think it's a mermaid anymore." Sam said. His brother waited. "The petty officer drowned in freshwater. I'm guessing it's the same for the others."

"Oh. Then maybe a lake spirit or something?"

"Maybe. Whatever it is; it's killing people when they're out of the water. I'm thinking a wodnik. They can survive on dry land and mostly can pass for human."

"Mostly?"

"Well, legend has it they appear as old, unclothed men with a greenish tint to their skin."

"Huh. So we're hunting a naked, old, green man. Sounds about right." Dean sighed. He didn't say anything else, but Sam could tell visions of hot mermaids were swimming in his mind from his wistful expression. Which was stupid, because Dean knew real mermaids were ugly, hermaphroditic, and covered in sharp scales.

Sam shook his head. "They're known to punish an insult to their territory with eight deaths. Abby and I found two possible locations for its nest. Neither is far from here." Sam paused. "And the second location is near an area park that recently built a walking trail around the pond. "

Dean nodded. "Yeah. That might piss a water spirit off. Do the feds know about the other victim?"

"Not yet. She wasn't military." Sam sighed. "And I'm still not sure how it's choosing victims. But the park held an 'Armed Forces Appreciation' day last week. Could explain when it got its hooks into the vics."

Dean crossed his arms. "So this thing, what, marked it's victims during the party and now is doling out deaths?"

"Seems like. Dean…" Sam knew his brother would take this personally. "Another soldier was found today. That puts the total to three."

"Three? Freakin' monsters." Righteous anger filled his brother's words. "Let's check it out tonight. Find this sonuvabitch and get rid of it."

"Wait." Sam used his 'think about this tone'. Not that it worked very often on his brother. "NCIS is securing both those locations as we speak." His stomach fluttered. He really didn't want to go to prison again. And he really, really didn't want to see his brother dragged to Supermax. Dean was just starting to sleep without startling awake from nightmares.

Dean snorted. "Sing Sing's got nothing on hell, dude." He said it like it was supposed to make Sam feel better. "Besides, it's not the first time we've crossed the yellow tape. We'll go late after they've run home to their snug little beds. "

"I don't know, man…" Sam still had a bad feeling about this one.

"Three people, Sam. This thing's just starting. We don't put an end to it now; more innocent people are going to die."

The idea of more deaths flipped Sam's stomach. He absently thought that maybe it was something he ate and not nerves pushing at his body. Besides, they _had_ taken bigger risks than this before. Hell, they worked a job in prison when the feds _knew_ they were alive and were after their heads.

"Yeah. You're right." Sam stretched back on the bed. "Let's go tonight. Consecrated, iron bullet to each eye should kill it."

Dean grinned. "So, that's it. We find a naked, green man and shoot out his eyes. That ends this?"

"Might not be that simple." Sam yawned, closing his eyes. "Not the killing. Destroying the eyes should work." He qualified. "But these things seem to adapt with the times. I'm just not convinced it'll be running around naked and green. Legends aren't always so literal. I'm also not convinced it will be corporeal unless it's on dry land or attacking a victim. It's a water spirit, afterall."

"Right. No reason to make it easy." Sam heard his brother shuffling around the room. "You rest up while I get us some grub. We don't catch this thing tonight – it's another hard day in the lab for you tomorrow." Then his brother chuckled. "Especially hard for you staring at this Abby all day, huh, Sam?"

Sam didn't answer, keeping his eyes shut. This job would go fine, he told himself. Nothing to worry about.


	3. Chapter 3

Gibbs peered into Abby's lab. His three field agents stared at Sam. McGee stood next to Abby, dressed in a blue buttoned-down shirt and sport coat. He obviously did not enjoy competition for her attention. Ziva played coy. She brushed her dark hair behind her ear, looking exotic, and kept scanning Sam up and down – sizing up his threat potential – when he turned. And Tony Dinozzo, in his expensive shoes and suit, circled the kid like a shark. There was a smirk plastered on his face as he stared up at Sam. The younger man didn't seem intimidated, though. If Gibbs had to choose an emotion to place on him, it'd probably be irritation.

"So this is the newbie." Tony said. "So how's the air up there? Hey, should I go ahead and arrest you now?"

"What?" Sam blinked, panic passing over his face. Gibbs took note of the response, filed it away in case it was important later. For now it was only a curiosity. Sam's papers had checked out. Abby liked him. Gibbs tentatively didn't hate him, but he needed work.

"Tony." Abby chided. She turned towards Sam, who visibly relaxed. "He means no harm, Sam. He always acts like this."

Tony crowded Sam. "Well, we've had to arrest the last few people who worked in Abby's lab so… Anyway, what brings you to NCIS." He stepped back, frowning at Sam's ruffled clothes.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _Sam didn't answer him. He rummaged in his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. "Sorry." He glanced down at the phone.

Tony cleared his throat. "You've got more fashion sense than McGeek." He said motioning to McGee who looked down at his clothes surprised. "I'll give you that." Tony said. "But you still need some work there, Sammy."

Sam stared at the phone for a moment more, frowning. He pushed a few buttons, shook his head, and put it away before looking up. The agents stared at him.

"Oh." Sam bristled. "Sorry. And it's Sam." He stood up tall, looking old and hard before softening. For a moment, he seemed to be thinking hard about what he was going to say. "And I can't afford anything else." He added with a small smile. Abby and Ziva melted.

The pretty agent slapped Tony hard. She walked up to Sam. "Do not worry, Sam." She said with a slight accent. "Tony is a jackass. Just take the bull by the tail and you will be fine here for the week."

Sam's brow knitted in confusion. "Um…okay." He said rubbing his hand through his hair. She slinked closer to him, skimming her hand over his arm.

"Besides." She said turning back to catch Tony's eyes. "I find your clothing…quite attractive."

"Uhh.." Sam cleared his throat. "Um…your accent…is it Israeli?" He asked, stepping back. Her face morphed in surprise.

"Ziva here's Mossad." Tony broke in. "She can kill you fifteen ways with a paperclip. Her ninja skills take down man and boy alike…"

"What's going on?" He was cut off by Gibb's booming voice. He'd had enough of this circus. There'd be time to haze the guy after these murders were solved.

"Oh. Boss." Tony stuttered, turning towards him. "Didn't see you there. We were just…"

Gibbs stared at him. "Just what, Dinozzo? Because last time I checked, we had two dead soldiers. And no leads." The annoyance hummed in his voice.

"Right, Boss." Tony said. "I was just…on…my…way…" He paused, then added quickly, "to check phone records to see if there is any indications the men knew each other."

"Yes." Ziva held her chin out. "And I will call the families again and see if the victims frequented any of the same bars or local hang outs."

"Alright, then." They stared at him. "NOW." He barked. Tony and Ziva rushed out of the room. McGee stayed beside Abby, his mouth half open like he wanted to say something.

"What McGee?" Gibbs said sounding exasperated.

"Um…boss. I thought maybe Abby needed extra help with the evidence?"

Gibbs motioned to Sam. "Abby has extra help." He said in a low, dangerous tone. McGee opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind, nodded, and walked out. Gibbs watched him leave, shaking his head. He should've slapped McGee in the back of the head. Gibbs turned back to find Abby grinning happily.

"You got something for me, Abs?"

"No." She said. Then her grin spread. "But Sam does." She pulled his tall form closer to Gibbs. "We were going to tell Tony, but you scared him away with the Gibbs thing. It's probably just as well." She looked up at Sam. "Show him." She nudged him towards Gibbs.

"Show me what?" Gibbs didn't have time for this.

"Um..." Sam seemed to be second guessing his decision. "Yeah…okay." He grabbed a used backpack from the corner and fumbled around inside. "I…um…thought I remembered seeing something in the paper a few days ago…" He handed a newspaper out to Gibbs. "So I went by the library this morning to check the recent editions…"

That sounded fishy to Gibbs for some reason. "And?"

Sam's phone beeped. He frowned at it and put it into his pocket. "Oh. Sorry. Look on the third page. Lindsay McGeorge died a week ago. The paper said she was found in her bedroom, but it was strange because the cause of death was reported as drowning." Sam glanced at him, pursing his lips. "I thought it might be related?"

Gibbs inhaled through his nose and stared at Sam. He nodded at the kid. "Ya think?"

_Beep. Beep. Beep._ Sam fumbled his phone out of his pocket again. Gibbs had enough. He grabbed it, turned it off, and put it into his own pocket. Sam's eyes got big with shock.

"That's my phone." He said. Gibbs crossed his arms. Sam fidgeted. "Can I have it back?"

"Not yet." And why Gibbs had to play school marm here was beyond him. "Maybe when the case is solved."

Sam's face pulled into a stubborn expression. For a moment, Gibbs thought he was actually going to argue with him. Or make a grab for the phone. But he just bit his lip and mumbled more apologies.

"And stop…" Gibbs raised his voice. "Saying your sorry." He caught the kids face and held his gaze. The tension finally broke as Ducky strolled into the lab. His expression shifted into amusement. "Why, you've got quite the crowd today, Abby.

"Ducky! You should visit more often." She said.

"Um…Yes." The old doctor hummed. He shuffled towards Gibbs, sparing Sam a curious glance. "Alas, my visit is not one solely of pleasure. I'm afraid that Mr. Palmer and I have discovered a most troubling pattern. I brought these samples for analysis, but could you also put these images up on the monitor?"

Two pictures of pale wrists filled the screen. A darkened tear-shaped blotch stood out clearly against the inside of the pale flesh. Abby and Sam squinted at the pictures.

"What am I looking at, Duck?" Gibbs pointed to the screen.

Ducky nodded towards the images. "I initially thought it was a case of simple bruising." He pursed his lips. "But after finding the same mark on the second body, further examination shows these aren't bruises at all. Our victims were literally marked. These are not the simple effect of a knock to the wrist I'm afraid. These…" Ducky paused, inhaling deeply, "…appear to be the signature of a killer."

Gibbs frowned. "Find out what caused those marks, Abby."

"You got it, Gibbs. Sam and I are on it." She shouted.

Gibbs sighed. This case was bugging the hell out of him. He heard Ducky's genial voice fill the space as he left. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sam. I am Dr. Mallard, but you can call me Ducky…"

**

Gibbs drove to the home of the dead petty officer's mother. His gut told him he might find answers with her. She answered the door adorned in a black suit with her gray hair in a tight bun. Her face was drawn and pale.

"Mrs. James." Gibbs smiled at her and held up his badge. "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. Can I come in, ma'am." She nodded and led him to a plaid couch in the sparse living room. She sat in a wooden chair beside him.

"What can I do for you Agent Gibbs?" The woman held her chin high and spoke with dry eyes. Gibbs glanced at the photographs around the room. She watched him. "His father was in the Navy, too, died in the Gulf." Military wife, then. He wasn't surprised. "When Paul said he wanted to join, I wasn't scared. I was so proud of him. If I ever lost him, I thought it would be in combat. Not like this."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. We'll find out what happened to him. I promise you that." He took her hand. "Can I ask you a few questions about your son?"

"I guess." Her brow knitted in confusion. "But I don't know what else I can tell you. I told Agent Clapton everything I could."

Gibbs cocked his head. "Agent Clapton?"

"He was here yesterday." She watched Gibbs expression and frowned. "He had an FBI badge…" She inhaled.

"Do you remember what he looked like?"

"Short hair. Handsome. I…I'm not sure. I can't believe this. Why would he…" Her eyes teared up. "He seemed like such a nice, young man."

"They always do." Gibbs leaned towards her. He put his hand on hers and spoke gently. "Can you tell me everything you told me?"

Her expression became firm. She nodded. "Please find whoever did this."

"Oh. Don't worry." Gibbs nodded. "I will."


	4. Chapter 4

People filled the street. They moved with purpose, shielding their eyes from the mid-day sun with newspapers and sunglasses. It was a good busy - the type of bustling atmosphere that Sam wanted when he needed to disappear. This was one of those times. He didn't want the NCIS agents overhearing his conversation. Sam folded into the phone booth and called his brother's cell. Dean answered on the second ring.

"Dean. They're on to you, man."

"Sammy." Dean sounded amused on the other end. Sam pictured him smirking down at the caller id. "They haven't given you back your phone yet?" His brother started laughing.

"It's your fault." Sam sighed. He wasn't Dean like Dean. He wanted to excel at work. Getting singled out by the boss wasn't his idea of doing that. "Your stupid texting is what got me into trouble in the first place. It's a good thing I erase your messages as soon as you send them. He could look at the phone."

"He does that all he'll find out is that you're a loser with only three people in your contacts list…"

"And you shouldn't have made me late this morning." Sam said. Why couldn't Dean understand that he wanted to do this right? It didn't matter that it was temporary. "Abby was pissed. She said if Gibbs found out, he'd kick me to the curve." Dean laughed louder on the other end.

"It's not funny, Dean." Sam said, cringing at how whiny it came out. "I'm trying to do a good job here."

Dean huffed over the phone. "Okay, Sam. You understand you're not really working there, right? It's a con..." Dean paused. "Actually, once you find out what's causing the marks on the victims, you should get your ass fired. Then when you disappear, no one will care."

"I'm not going to get myself fired."

"Fine." His brother's bossy voice turned on full force. "What are you going to do, then? Just keep working there after we finish this job? Ask them for recommendations? If you'd concentrate more on your actual job – you know – finding and killing the monster, maybe we'd get this finished up."

"It's only for two more days after today, Dean." Sam sighed. "I…I just want to do this right. Haven't you ever heard of pride in ownership?"

Dean snorted. "Dude. You've seen my car, right?" There was a pause. And Dean's voice took on a gentle tone when it returned. "Sam…the longer you work with them, the more likely you're going to get found out. I know you want to wait out the week; but you shouldn't stay any longer than necessary."

"I know." Sam's lips twitched down. "It's just…Abby's had bad experiences with people who've worked with her. I don't want to add my name to the list…" Sam glanced out on the street. People hurried down the sidewalk with lunch bags and cups in hand. Normal. Safe. He closed his eyes. Seeing what he could never have only made him want it more. "But you're right. I find what we need and then get out…"

"I'm sorry, Sam. This is how it has to be. It's better for her this way too…"

Sam cut him off. "Yeah." He didn't need his brother's sympathy routine. "Just watch your back. They're looking for a fake FBI agent. It's the only lead they have."

"Will do. But, I want to interview one more witness." His brother's glib tone didn't bother Sam. Dean knew this was a high risk investigation. He'd be careful. The threat of either of them getting arrested...that image made Sam fidget in the booth. But they still had five deaths to prevent and Sam doubted NCIS knew how to take down a wodnik. His brother continued. "Mrs. James said her son was bitten by a snake at the park. I think it might be connected to the case; I'm gonna talk to the medic on call. I have a hunch the 'bite' is related to these deaths. Don't worry, Sam. I'll put on my street clothes. Use my press card. This plays out, maybe we can get you out of there sooner."

"Right…" Sam said softly. He glanced at his watch. "Dammit!" His break ended three minutes ago. "I gotta go. I'm going to be late." Sam heard Dean chuckling over the receiver as he slammed it down.

**

Medic Kinsey was old, bald, and grumpy. Dean liked the guy. His kept his office spotless. The shelves contained ordered and alphabetized medicines. Bandages, arranged by size and shape, filled the tray beside Dean's chair. Kinsey had been on call during the park's appreciation day. Dean rushed through his questions with him. He wanted to be done with this job. It was difficult getting him to talk without his fed act, but he found out four people had sought medical attention for snake bites on the arm…including Petty Officer Paul James and Lindsay McGeorge.

The man cursed in a loud, harsh voice when Dean knocked over the bandage tray. Kinsey bent down to pick it up.

"Oops." Dean said, watching his shiny head as he bent down to pick the mess up. Dean swiped the records of the other two snake bite incidents. If these other two had been marked, he and Sam might be able to gank this monster and move on. That still left three more, unknown, potential victims…but at least it was a lead. They might pull this one off. He hurried out to his car, smiling at her as her black paint job shone under the afternoon sun.

"Hey. You. Wait up." Dean turned around. A guy hurried toward him. Older. Dressed in civilian clothes, but Dean knew military when he saw it. His first instinct was to run before he got blamed for something. Well, screw that. He hadn't actually done anything wrong. He should be able to go wherever the hell he wanted to go. Plus, running looked suspicious.

He smirked at the old guy. "Yeah?" Dean gave him the once over. He looked like he knew how to handle himself. Dean thought he had a gun. Maybe a knife on his ankle. The guy stared at him – a long, uncomfortable dad-type stare. "Can I help you?" Dean said in his most disrespectful tone. And, yeah, his dad would probably kick his ass for it if he was alive.

"I don't know, Agent Clapton. Can you?"

Dean raised an eyebrow at that. He put on his innocent face - though he sometimes suspected it looked guiltier than his normal one. He pulled at his t-shirt, glancing down at his jeans.

"Who? Look fella, you've mixed me up with someone else."

The guy cocked his head. "So you're not Agent Dean Clapton?"

"No." Dean huffed. "I'm um…" Dean cursed himself. He'd used the same name for his press ID. "I'm just me."

"Special Agent Gibbs – NCIS." Yeah. Dean figured that was who this was. Gibbs pulled out his badge. "I'll need to see some ID."

"Do you have a warrant?" Dean asked because…well…because. He and Gibbs stared at each other. Dean thought he could probably take him. His dad had trained him to fight as good as any marine and his skills were in constant use. Not to mention he had age on his side. Gibbs had to be pushing fifty if not older. Dean knew the odds were in his favor. Gibbs knew it too. It probably wouldn't prevent the man from breaking Dean's neck, though. And if Dean did happen to win, well, he'd fell guilty as hell about hurting the guy.

"I.D." Gibbs growled, crowding into his personal space. Gibbs was an intimidating bastard – Dean would give him that.

Dean snorted. He figured he had three choices here. He could fight, but that would end bad one way or another. He could run, but running from an ex-sniper who was currently packing…yeah…no. Or he could play along for now. He bit his lip and threw up his hands.

"Fine." What's the worst that happens? He gets arrested? If Sam couldn't break him out, some angel would come for him sooner or later. Or kill him. Or leave him there to rot. Shit. Damn winged freaks. He felt the frown pull across his face. Gibbs looked curious as he watched him.

Dean shoved his hand in his coat, rooted around for the damn ID. He saw the agent steady his hand on his pistol. Dean slowed his movements, pulling out his fake FBI wallet with deliberate movements. Oh, what the hell, he grabbed his press ID too. He handed them to the agent and grinned. No reason not to go all out. Gibbs flipped one open, then the other. The corner of his mouth twitched. Dean figured he was doing a decent job of irritating him.

"You're going to have to come with me, _Agent Clapton_."

Dean sighed and raised his hands up for the cuffs. "How'd you know it was me?" He asked. Because, yeah, good to find out what mistakes you made so you could not make them again. The agent didn't answer, but he glanced at Dean's car. Well, that answered how he recognized him. His baby was a thing of beauty. One of the witnesses must have remembered her. But Dean didn't have a clue how he'd actually thought to look for him at the medic's office.

Gibbs led him to another car – a dull, white, government issued car. Maybe they'd caught Sam? Dean doubted it for some reason. And he couldn't ask, because, well, that would blow Sam's cover if it was still intact. The agent opened the door and pushed Dean into the backseat.

"Watch it…" Dean grumbled. Gibbs raised an eyebrow and slammed the car door.


	5. Chapter 5

Gibbs watched the guy in the backseat. He looked a little younger than McGee – probably in his late twenties to early thirties. He kept glancing around like he was looking for a way to escape. After a few miles, he settled down and set his gaze towards the front.

"So…" The guy leaned sideways to catch Gibb's eyes in the rearview. He fidgeted in the cuffs locked behind his back. "Can't we talk about this? It's a big misunderstanding. That's all." He grinned, a hopeful expression on his face. Gibbs sped up the car. The guy continued, his tone becoming gentle and placating. "You don't talk much, huh? You know its okay to open up. I won't judge you." Gibbs took the next turn hard and watched the guy struggle to keep his balance.

"Okay." Gibbs sneered. "You want to talk, start by telling me who you are?"

"Dude, you got both my IDs." He shuffled on the seat, grimacing. He stopped, grinning again. "Dean Clapton."

"Alright, _Dean_." Gibbs said. "Impersonating a federal agent…felony. Everything else, we'll talk about in interrogation."

Dean snorted in the backseat. "I thought you guys called it interview these days."

"When I do it, it's called interrogation." Gibbs caught his eyes, held them.

"Huh." Dean's lips twitched in a half-hearted smirk. "Of course it is." Dean turned to look out the window. After another mile, he slunk into the seat, closed his eyes, and stayed quiet.

**

Gibbs and Tony watched through the glass. Dean sat alone in the interview room, frowning at the chain on his wrist. He jerked the metal a few times.

"Both IDs are forgeries. McGee's running his prints. Nothing so far, but he's expanding the parameters." Tony motioned through the window. "You think he's our guy, boss?"

"I think he knows something."

_Bang. Bang. Bang._ Dean pounded on the table. "Hey!" He glared at them from the room. "I know you're in there." He groaned. "Could you at least unchain me? You've got armed guards at the door!"

Tony snickered. "He's a lively one, huh, boss." He nodded towards the room. "You want me to take a shot at him?"

Gibbs considered it. But he was the only one who had had contact with the suspect so far. "Nope." He walked out. "I'll do it."

Dean startled when Gibbs opened the door. "Finally." He said, relaxing into a grin again. Gibbs was beginning to think it was a permanent fixture on his face. "I'd like a coffee, black. And…ah…make it snappy." He snapped his fingers.

Gibbs ignored the comment. He sat in the chair opposite him and leaned back. "My people are running your prints. You want to tell me what they're going to find?"

Dean shrugged. His grin floundered. "Look, man. You got the wrong guy."

"Really…you want to explain that."

Dean looked thoughtful. As he opened his mouth to speak, the door flew open. McGee stood in the doorway and motioned for Gibbs to follow him out. He stood up, clenching his teeth. Dean watched, clearly curious at the turn of events.

Gibbs leaned toward the suspect. "I'll be right back." He forced out.

McGee began stammering as soon as they were in the hallway. "I know, boss, Rule number twenty-two…never, ever bother you during an interrogation." He shifted on his feet. "But we were running the guy's prints and Ziva suggested that we check out the phone he had on him…"

"Get to the point, McGee." Gibbs moved into his space. "And this better be good."

"Right. There was nothing saved on it, but Ziva called the last number dialed and your desk drawer started buzzing."

"Buzzing?"

"The phone you took from Sam, the student working in Abby's lab, you put it in your desk yesterday. It wasn't shut off; you must have put it on vibrate instead. Our suspect has been in contact with him."

Gibbs cocked his head. He inhaled air deep in his chest. "Abby?'

"She's fine boss. Ziva's with her. She said Sam took off ten minutes ago. No sign of him yet. I've alerted security. They're sending someone to watch over her."

Gibbs nodded and started walking down the hallway. "Call the gate. Put the building on lockdown. I don't want anyone going in or out. You got that."

"Already done, boss."

"Dinozzo!" Gibbs shouted. Tony stumbled out from the viewing room.

"Yeah, boss."

"Put a guard inside." He pointed towards the interview room. "Keep two outside the door." Gibbs turned back to Tony. "He doesn't leave here. You got it."

"Sure thing, boss." Tony called after him.

McGee hurried up beside Gibbs. "Uh…boss. What should I do…"

Gibbs stopped. Turned towards him and waited.

McGee blinked at him. "Right. I'll run a facial recognition program for him and Sam. And I'll keep running the prints until we get a hit." McGee nodded and rushed away. "I'm on it, boss."

**

Two hours later, Gibbs held a thick file in his hand. His three agents flurried with information. Gibbs glanced at the folder.

"Sam and Dean Winchester?"

"Yes, Gibbs." Ziva clicked the monitor bringing up mug shots. "We matched the prints once we took away all the constraints…they are both labeled as deceased."

That surprised him. "They're officially dead?"

Tony cut in, sounding excited. "Oh…it gets better, boss. Dean – the one in the interview room; not the one we can't find – he's labeled as deceased…" He looked at the others amused. "Not once…" Tony held up two fingers. "But twice."

"And…" McGee stepped forward. "They have lots of paramilitary ties. Both brothers were on the FBI's most wanted list for almost two years. There's a list of charges ranging from torture and murder to bank robbery to credit card fraud. They were believed to have been killed in a helicopter crash and explosion that left several LEOs and three FBI agents dead." McGee paused. "Should I contact the FBI?"

Gibbs turned towards him. "This is still a NCIS investigation, McGee." He raised his voice. "The FBI gets a hold of them; they won't be sharing."

"Uh…right, boss. I'll wait."

Gibbs turned towards his team. "McGee. Ziva. Go through this information. Find out everything you can about Sam and Dean Winchester. See if there is anything that connects them to our drowning victims." He moved towards the elevator. "Dinozzo, get Ducky. Give him a copy of the file and have him meet you in the viewing room. I'm going to have another talk with our suspect."

"You want the doc to do a profile, boss?" Tony grabbed the phone on his desk. "Right. I'll call him." Tony cocked his head. "You think Dean'll talk?"

"He'd better." Gibbs said low and angry.

**

"Gibbs!" Dean sounded cheerful. He nodded toward the guard. "I gotta tell you, I thought you were quiet. But you're a real chatty Cathy next to armed and brooding over here." The guard bristled, looking like all his energy was going into _not_ shooting the suspect. Gibbs excused him from the room.

"Let's talk." He pulled out the chair, sat down, and fixed Dean with a glare. He sat a folder down on the table. "I hear you like to torture people."

"What?" Dean paled and sat upright in his chair. He stifled in a breath.

Gibbs pulled out photos from two crime scenes in St. Louis. Pushed them towards him. Dean blinked at pictures and cocked his head like he was surprised.

"You're the prime suspect in torturing and killing of several women."

Dean seemed to get his head back together. He chuckled and pushed the pictures back towards Gibbs. "I didn't do that."

"No…maybe Sam was responsible then. The girl that got away…she was a friend of his, right?"

Dean frowned at the mention of his brother's name. He sank back in his seat. "Sam didn't hurt anyone." Dean paused. "And Sam and Becky are still friends…ask her." A wry smile turned his lips. "That is, you know, if you want to do some actual investigative work and not just blame me and my brother for everything you can't explain."

"Oh, don't worry. I will." Gibbs peered at him. He moved on. "You've been declared dead twice."

He snorted. "Yeah. You guys can't even get that right." Dean leaned forward. "You know, I've only actually been dead once. FYI, I don't recommend it."

This attitude was wearing thin. Gibbs cut his eyes at him.

"You find this amusing, son?"

His cocky façade dropped for a moment. Dean glanced away. He smirked as turned back to look at Gibbs. He attempted to cross his arms, but was stifled by the chain. He yanked at it and cursed.

Gibbs stood up. He had rattled him. He leaned into Dean's space. "Several agents died in that explosion. I hand you over to the FBI; I doubt you'll make it to trial." Gibbs moved to whisper in his ear. "You tell me about the drowning victims and I'll make sure you and your brother live long enough for sentencing."

Dean leaned away. "And what exactly do you want to know?"

"I want the truth."

Dean frowned. He bit his lip and scrunched his eyebrows. Then the corner of his mouth twitched up. "It's like my man, Jack, in 'A few good men'…" He paused. "You can't handle the truth."

Gibbs slammed his hand on the table. Dean flinched and looked up at him. He changed tactics. "Sam followed you into this. You and your brother, Dean, you don't cooperate, you're looking at hard time." He threw down the fake FBI badge. "Or I could have you both sent to Gitmo for this type of thing. You want that for him? For you?"

Dean shifted in his seat and stared at the floor. He looked up. "I've survived worse places than that." He shrugged. "Besides…" He said, sounding smug and sure. "You don't have Sam."


	6. Chapter 6

Tony was chuckling as Gibbs entered the viewing room.

"A classic…Jack Nicholson, Tom Cruise…oh…and let's not forget Demi Moore, ahhh…Demi Moore." Tony grinned wistfully. He nodded towards the window. "This guy's great…" Gibbs stepped between him and Ducky. Tony clamped his mouth shut.

"That your take, Dinozzo?" Gibbs said.

Tony cocked his head and stared at the suspect. "He's just not giving me the psycho vibe, boss. I mean, people who quote Nicholson, almost always not the guy."

Gibbs considered that. "Sam?" He asked."McGee didn't find any footage of him leaving and his visitor ID hasn't been signed out. He's checking the recordings from inside the building now and security's scouring the place floor by floor." Tony raised his eyebrows. "He's here, we'll find him."

"Abby thought he was smart. Might not be that simple." Gibbs rubbed his chin and eyed Dean. "Check on the St. Louis and Baltimore cases. Find out what happened." He shook his head. "Have Ziva help you."

"You think he's telling the truth about Rebecca Warren?"

"That's what I want to know."

"Right. I'm on it, boss."

Gibbs turned to Ducky as Tony left the room.

"What's your take on Dean?"

"Hmmm." The doctor squinted through the glass. "Tony's instincts, while based on strange logic and odd connections, are almost as good as yours, Jethro." Ducky paused. "But if you're asking me if the boy in that room fits the profile of the monster described in the file…on cursory examination…I'd have to say, I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"It's interesting, really." The doctor tapped the thick file. "The mere variety of crimes Dean and his brother have been charged with is unusual. Sociopaths, psychopaths and killers, in general, stick to patterns. There is no such pattern discernable in this. These crimes don't fit any one profile." He held up the papers. "Not to mention, several witnesses claim they were conversely saved by the Winchester's, including a detective in Baltimore."

"The witnesses could have been threatened." Gibbs stated.

"True." The doctor sighed. "Yet, I found Sam to be quite an affable, young man when I talked with him, but appearances can be deceiving."

"So…you've got nothing."

"Oh, I didn't say that." Ducky nodded towards Dean. "Watching young Mr. Winchester has been quite enlightening." The doctor turned to watch the suspect. Dean's eyes were closed and he appeared to be humming to himself.

"How so, Duck?" Gibbs moved closer to the glass.

"Oh. Well." The doctor shook his fingers towards the window. "He shows signs of surviving serious trauma. He's jumpy. He paled considerably when you mentioned torture, but showed no real reaction to the pictures from the crime scenes in St. Louis other than annoyance. His startle reflex is exaggerated." The doctor held up the file. "The FBI did comprehensive profiling of both Dean and his brother and there is no mention of it. It's clearly a new development. Whether it's from a recent trauma or from something repressed, though, is impossible to say.

Gibbs turned back towards the doctor. "You're saying our suspect has been victimized?"

"Possibly. But it's not unusual for violent criminals to have suffered in their past. Unfortunately monsters tend to be made, Jethro, not born." The doctor pursed his lips. "Dean seems to have descent control over his stress, but his agitation with the cuff suggests the chain may be a trigger."

"You thinking post-traumatic-stress disorder?" The doctor nodded. Gibbs sighed. "Anything else?"

"One other thing, you seemed to hit a nerve when you called him 'son'." Ducky tapped the file. "His father was a marine. Although, I hate suggesting it, perhaps you can use that relationship to get him to talk."

"Thanks, Duck." Gibbs put his hand on the doorknob to check with Tony. He'd leave Dean to stew in the interrogation room for awhile.

**

Sam leaned his head against the back wall of the janitorial closet. The closet where he was hiding…from NCIS…in NCIS headquarters...for almost three hours. _Shit_. He banged his skull quietly against the wall. This hiding in the closet plan? Not really his finest moment. He sank down to the floor. He needed to sit and think and figure a way out of this mess.

Abby had told him, rather excitedly, that NCIS was sending a crew over to Fourth and Main to tow in a sixty-seven Chevy Impala. 'They got Dean, they got Dean,' starting running like a ticker tape through his mind. Sam fumbled an excuse about indigestion and all but ran out. The silent alarm started blinking while he was in the hallway. Sam picked the lock to the first door he found. And now he was in the closet.

He scanned the small space, chuckling to himself. He was so screwed. And he was surprised no one had found him yet. Inventorying the contents, he found three brooms, two mops, a cleaning cart, various cloths, and one dirty jumpsuit crumpled in the corner – the kind someone who worked in the building might wear. He pulled the jumpsuit to him. Sam's lips twitched down. Goop crusted the brownish material and it crunched as he unfolded it. Holding it up, the jumpsuit looked a little short for him. He breathed through his mouth, trying to avoid bad odors that wafted off the clothing.

Sam had a plan. And it was a stupid plan. He threw off his nice-smelling shirt and jeans and forced his body into the too tight material. He sighed. He grabbed an old cleaning cloth that resembled a handkerchief and tied it around his head. Sam took a deep breath to steady himself. Well, shit.

Sam squared his shoulders. Okay. The plan. First, he had to leave the closet. He listened with his ear against the door. Hearing no one in the hallway, he turned the lock and hurried out. The cart squeaked as he pushed it down the corridor. Two men, dressed like lawyers, came around the corner towards him. He hunched over the contraption and kept moving. One of them glanced at him. Sam smiled.

"Good afternoon, Sir." He said in his most humble tone. The man looked at him a second longer. He scrunched his nose and continued down the hall talking with his friend.

Sam shook his head, quelling the panic in his chest. Not everyone he encountered would be a condescending asshole. And then there was the problem of the cameras. The majority of the building was under closed circuit. He kept his head down. But someone was bound to recognize him if they were paying attention, and they undoubtedly were paying attention. Yeah. He needed to find a better disguise and get the hell out of here. And then he needed to bust Dean out. That part of the plan was still in the fuzzy stage. He'd figure it out as he went. Right now, though, he needed a better fitting, better smelling disguise.

**

Dean tapped his fingers against the table. They'd left him alone in the room for over an hour. The metal cuff around his wrist glinted against the overhead lights. He cut his eyes toward the mirror, wondering who was watching. Hell, what did he care?

"Hey!" He yelled toward the reflection. "I'll take that coffee now." The damn chain caught as he lifted his arm to wave at the glass. He looked down at it, wrinkling his brow. It shouldn't bother him. It wasn't bothering him. Dean had been chained up plenty of times before. There were all the times he'd been arrested; his time in jail; thirty years on the rack in hell... He shook his head. That was almost a year ago. No need to think about hell. It was over.

The door clattered open. Dean jumped. Gibbs walked inside holding a paper cup and two sheets of paper. He sat across from Dean.

"Coffee. Black." Gibbs pushed the cup towards him.

Dean peered at him and took it. "So, what? You've switched to good cop, now?" He chuckled. "Cause I gotta tell ya – your bad cop – pretty hard act to follow." Dean smiled and brought the cup to his lips. It was hot, bitter, and not half bad.

"Your friend in St. Louis, Rebecca Warren, told my agent you weren't responsible for her kidnapping."

Dean paused. "Yeah, dude. I told you I didn't do that." He frowned down at the coffee, taking another sip. He hoped no one spit in it.

Gibbs leaned towards him. "Agent Gibbs."

"What?" Dean leaned away.

Gibbs spoke slowly. "Agent. Gibbs."

Oh. Dean snorted, leaning back forward. "Fine. _Agent Gibbs_, I told you I didn't do that."

The older man smiled at him like he'd won some contest. Dean frowned again, watching him.

"You want to tell me how you ended up declared dead?"

Dean considered it. Huh. Well, why the hell not? "Easy. They didn't shoot me. That was just something that looked like me." Dean took a sip of his coffee. "Not my fault the police can't tell the difference."

"And the second time?"

Dean shrugged. He set his coffee down and looked away. The second time he'd been declared dead, half a dozen people had died. And it was his fault. Lilith had been after him and Sam when she killed them.

"Alright. We'll come back to that." Gibbs pushed the papers across the table. "Why'd you take these reports?"

Dean turned back towards the table and glanced at the pages. He contemplated the incidence reports he'd swiped from the medic's office. The two people on those reports were in danger. He was sure of it. He hadn't gotten a chance to give the information to Sam. Besides, god knew where his brother was hiding. And Dean didn't think he'd be pulling a Houdini in the near future. Dammit. Five more people were gonna die if this didn't get sorted out. He bit his lip. This was a problem.

Gibbs stood up, pounding his hands on the table. Dean startled and knocked over his coffee. It seeped in a dark puddle over the edge of the table. Gibbs spoke close to his ear. "Were you and your brother planning on killing them, like the others?"

Dean glowered at him. "Sam and I didn't kill them." And he was sick of getting blamed for everything. He had enough to answer for without taking the hit for things he hadn't done.

"Okay." Gibbs sat down, his face fixed in a scowl. "Then you tell me what's going on. I want the truth."

Dean sighed. Back to that again. "Look, you want the truth or you want what you think is the truth. Because I got news for you, they aren't the same thing."

Gibbs fixed him with a hard glare. He kept his eyes locked until Dean began to fidget under his gaze.

"Tell me the truth." Gibbs held Dean's eyes.

Dean snickered and looked away. "Alright. But I gotta warn you." He turned back to Gibbs. "You aren't gonna to like it. And you aren't gonna believe it." Dean leaned towards him. "See there's this monster…" Gibbs remained silent. Dean smirked at him. "It's a wodnik, nasty son of a bitch. Drowns people while they're out of the water. That's what happened to your two soldiers. And the girl."

Gibbs exhaled slowly. "A wodnik?"

"Yeah. It's a type of water spirit. According to Sam it looks like a wrinkled, nude, green guy." Dean scratched his nose.

"Uh huh." Gibbs face remained stolid, but Dean saw a hint of pity deep in his expression. "So it looks human?"

Dean tensed in his chair. "This thing…" His voice rose; came out angry. He pointed to the names on the incidence reports. "It's not done. These people are in danger."

"From the monster?" Gibbs cut in.

Dean's brow pulled together. He clenched his fist. "Yeah. From the damn monster." He steadied his voice. "Look, Agent Gibbs, I know you think I'm nuts. But believe me, the wodnik, it's gonna kill five more people before it's done."

Gibbs's expression darkened. "You're telling me five more people are going to be killed."

"That's exactly what I'm telling you."


	7. Chapter 7

Gibbs leaned against the wall of the interrogation room. He fixed a hard glare at the suspect. Dean glowered back, defiance etched on his features.

"Five more deaths." Dean huffed. "And if you don't let me out to stop it; that blood is on your hands, _Agent Gibbs._"

Gibbs chuckled. Dean really was nuts if he thought he had a chance in hell of getting released. Dean must have understood because he made an annoyed little grunt and rolled his eyes.

"Okay. Okay." Dean caught his gaze. His expression turned serious. "Listen…"

"I'm all ears." Gibbs waited, caught between curiosity and irritation. He wondered what would come out of the guy's mouth next.

Dean nodded. "Those two people…" He pointed to the reports. "You need to find out if they've been marked. If they've got tear-drop tatts on their wrists, this thing's hunting them…"

"The wodnik?"

"Yeah. _The wodnik_." Dean's face twitched in frustration. "And you need to talk to this Abby chick and find out everything she and Sam discovered about those marks. Cause I got a hunch that's gonna help us determine who the freak's masquerading as in the real world." Dean paused and continued with certainty in his voice. "This thing's gonna kill again."

Gibbs moved around the room. Dean's eyes tracked him. This interrogation was one of his stranger ones. Not the strangest, though, sadly enough. He kept silent. Dean was going for more than crazy here. The kid stretched his arms across the table. He gritted his teeth as the chain caught, but he composed himself quickly. Gibbs would have missed it if not for his earlier conversation with Ducky.

Dean's voice came out serious and sure. "But you're still gonna need my help if you wanna stop it."

Gibbs rubbed his chin. He believed Dean when he said there were lives at stake. How he and his brother played into all of it; that he didn't have a handle on yet.

"How so?" Gibbs peered at him. "I have the forensic information. I have the bodies. I have the names of the people you claim are in danger. How exactly do I need your help, Dean?"

The corners of Dean's mouth turned up in a cynical grin. "I can find its lair."

"Lair?"

"Yeah. You know. Its base. Its home when it's not out drowning people. You want to destroy this thing; finding out where it lives goes a long way to forcing it into the open."

Gibbs inhaled, keeping his words firm and steady. "Maybe I think you're the monster. You're right here, Dean." Gibbs spread his arms. "I have you."

"Yeah." Dean said with sarcasm in his tone. "That's a good theory. Let's see how well it holds up when the bodies start piling up."

"Your brother could go after these people while you're in here." Gibbs pointed to the names. "And you're going to be in here for awhile, Dean."

Dean groaned. "Sam isn't a killer. You met him. He was helping you…remember?"

"Helping?" Gibbs felt his anger flare. "That's an interesting take on the situation. Especially since resources that should be going into solving the case are being used for sniffing him out. And we will sniff him out."

"Wasted effort if you ask me." Dean shrugged. "Besides, do you really want to risk peoples lives on the hunch that me and Sam are the killers? What if we're not? I kinda pegged you for the 'turn every stone type of guy'. But, hey, you're a fed, so I could've been wrong." Dean paused, tapping the table with his finger. "Whatever you want to believe is doing this – the wodnik, some nutjob, or even me – I can find the tromping ground. That's valuable. You know it. Sam and this Abby may have limited the search area to two places, but I know which one's the right one. And if you let me look around, I'll find you its home base."

Gibbs stepped behind Dean. He bent down close to his left ear and spoke low and threatening. "I got a better idea. Why don't you tell me everything you know and I'll consider it cooperation."

Dean strained his neck, turning to catch Gibb's gaze. He bit his lip like he was considering it. Then he smiled. "Nah." Dean shrugged. "But I'll show you. What you say? Are you up for day by the water?"

Gibbs crossed his arms and snarled at the kid. "You think this is a negotiation, Dean?"

Dean laughed, keeping his eyes locked on Gibbs. "Come on, Agent Gibbs. What do you got to lose?" Dean smirked, his voice turning cocky. "Afraid I'll get away?"

**

Abby was standing in the back corner of the lab gripping her stuffed hippo. The lights were turned low and the music was off. The instruments hummed in the room. Gibbs walked in and stood beside her. He waited.

She squeezed the hippo causing farting noises to flood the room. "I can't believe I trusted him, Gibbs." Her voice turned angry. "With the stupid dimples. And the puppy-dog eyes. And the super-awesome tattoo." Her lip pouted out. "How come this keeps happening to me?"

"Not your fault, Abs." Gibbs moved to stand closer to her and spoke softly. "Whatcha' got?"

Abby crossed her arms. "Other than terrible judgment in assistants, life, and men in general. Not much, Gibbs."

"Abs…"

Abby set the hippo down and motioned to Gibbs to follow her to the lab bench. "Sam and I started the samples right before he ran out and became unmasked as the latest criminal in my life." Abby bit her lip. "I had to reprep everything. His help compromised the other samples, the chain of evidence, all of it. I threw them out."

"How long?"

Abby walked over and peered at the instrument. "A few hours. It's running samples on the tear-shaped mark and extractions from skin around the area." Abby paused, hugging herself. "I really liked him, Gibbs. With all the tallness and intellect. It's like I'm cursed."

Gibbs smiled at her. "It's not you, Abs. Besides, we'll catch Sam. Just get me the results." He moved towards the door. "And check out the car."

Abby brightened. "On it, Gibbs." She blinked at him. "Where are you going?"

He stopped and shook his head. "I'm taking Sam's brother on a ride." He chuckled. "We'll see if he survives it."

**

Gibbs went to his desk and grabbed his gun. He pulled his pack beside him. "Any news on Sam Winchester?"

Ziva, Tony, and McGee exchanged awkward glances. Ziva spoke up.

"Yes. One of the guards searching the building was found tied up in the women's restroom." She paused. "He claimed a tall, smelly janitor attacked him and took his clothing and ID."

McGee stepped forward. "The assailant apparently apologized before knocking the guard out, undressing him, and tying him up."

Gibbs rubbed his hand over his temple. "Any sign he's out of the building?"

McGee shook his head. "No. Not yet. And we're checking identification for everyone in a uniform."

Gibbs turned to his team. His voice came out loud and commanding. "Dinozzo. You and McGee make sure every inch of this building is searched, floor by floor, room by room, until you find Sam Winchester. He doesn't get away. Got it."

"On it, boss." Tony said. He and McGee moved to their desks.

Gibbs turned towards Ziva. "Ziva, grab you're gear. We're taking the other one on a ride. He claims he can show us the 'lair' of the murderer."

"You believe him, Gibbs?" Ziva said. "Do you think he is the murderer?"

"One way or the other, I think he knows something." Gibbs started for the elevator. "And keep your guard up. I think he's a hell of lot smarter than he pretends to be."

Ziva went to her desk and pulled out her gun. "Do you think he intends to escape?"

Gibbs stopped. He turned back. "Yep. That's exactly what I think."


	8. Chapter 8

Dean had expected to be dumped in the backseat, but Gibbs pushed him into shotgun. The front of the state vehicle was more comfortable than the rear. Or maybe it felt that way because his cuffs were rearranged so his hands were cuffed at his front. A little of the tension release from his muscles.

Dean rested his head on the back of the seat, watching the guards beside the car through the passenger window glass. They eyed him like a trophy, fingers resting on their firearms. Dean fidgeted. Gibbs sat beside him. He didn't start the car. Dean waited. They sat in the lot. Dean shifted his eyes towards the older man.

"You know," he said. "It works better if you turn the ignition."

Gibbs didn't respond.

Dean wriggled in the seat. "Dude, seriously…" He nodded towards the low sun in the evening sky. "I'm getting old here." The impatience in his voice filled the car. Gibbs's mouth tightened. Dean clicked his teeth.

He and Sam had already combed the site. They hadn't found much and Dean didn't think the wodnik stayed in his protectorate. He'd decided the monster lived somewhere else. Probably a bungalow or some shit. Dean chuckled. Like a commuter. But Dean liked the idea of getting a look in the light, he thought the agents would be safe, and he thought he could escape.

The other night he and Sam had found…well 'cavern' really wasn't the right term…a 'hole' with a spillover into the woods might be a better description. It was beside an old grate in the deep area of the pond. He'd found it tromping around in the woods, not on the path. It was small and hidden and contained an air pocket and steep slope a short ways into the woods. Yeah. Perfect. It wasn't visible from the path or the pond. He shifted so he could see the clock in the dashboard. Five o'clock. The wodnik was going to kill again, Dean could feel it. He needed to get away and take care of the evil son of a bitch. Damn. They needed to get a move on.

"We need to get a move on." Dean glared at the guy. Gibbs ignored him. Dean tried again. "Look, man, is there a reason we're sitting here?" Nothing. Dean sighed staring at his lap. He had another idea on how to get the guy to answer. He didn't really like it...but, overall, he didn't mind too much. Oh, well, nothing ventured…

Dean cleared his throat. "Is there a reason we're sitting here…Sir?" He bit out.

That got a response. Gibbs turned to him, eyes flicking in surprise. He peered at him for a moment before answering.

"Agent Gibbs. And yes."

"Fine. Agent Gibbs." Dean said. "Why exactly are we waiting?"

The older man nodded at the building. A pretty girl walked out and towards the car.

"Oh." Dean guessed this was the female officer Sam had described. His lips twitched up. "Well, that's a good reason, huh?" He grinned at the man. Gibbs shook his head.

She opened the door.

"Are you sure about this, Gibbs?" She asked fixing her eyes at Dean.

"Yep." Gibbs turned the key and continued. "He tries anything, Ziva…" Gibbs paused, his voice firm, "Shoot him."

Dean gave the pretty Mossad officer his best 'please don't' grin. She raised her eyebrows. As she slinked into the back of the car, she made a show of flicking the safety off her pistol.

Gibbs drove like a damn maniac. Dean gripped the dash with his cuffed hands. He steadied himself for the next curve.

"You want me dead, why don't you just let her shoot me." Dean said settling back in the seat. Of course, then they got stuck in traffic and Gibbs zoomed around the crowd by driving on the bumpy shoulder. Dean restated his complaint about the driving. If Gibbs or Ziva cared, they didn't show it. They reached the park at sunset which pissed Dean off.

"I've seen the place in the damn dark, already." He said feeling the deep itch of irritation. He cocked his head and glowered at the agents. He peered down at the water. At least it would be easier to disappear in the dark.

"Then you better hurry." Gibbs held out his hand. "What do you want to show us?"

"Right." Dean gazed at the expanse of water. It looked cold and still. A half mile cement path surrounded it. Dean could see the far side of the cement glinting white under the fading rays. He shivered. Diving in that mess was going to be damn cold. "Let's walk the trail." He said.

Gibbs grabbed his elbow. Dean felt Ziva's eyes on his back. He pictured her hand sitting loosely on her sidearm. He really hoped he didn't get shot escaping.

Dean had a simple plan. And simple plans were good. Sam always came up with detailed over-thunk plans. Dean didn't know where his brother was now and what he was doing, but he was sure it involved some complicated thinking shit.

Not that Sam's overly wrought plans didn't work – they did. Just not as well as Dean's straightforward ones. And his plain little escape plan was already moving along. This first step had been to get out of the building and to the pond. Dean grinned at Gibbs. Gibbs pulled his arm tighter. Yeah. Part one, already done.

Part two involved tiring out the agents. He eyed them, sighing. It might take awhile. He decided to add annoy them to this part of the game. Yeah. Wear them out and bug the hell out of them. Maybe he could teach them something about monsters, too. Not that they'd believe him, but, hey, they dealt with dead bodies all the time. If they were ever unfortunate enough to run into the supernatural again maybe they'd remember something. Dean hummed to himself. He could do that. Knock them off kilter. Teach them some crap. Then he'd jump in the water, not drown, and hide in the hidey hole until he could pick his cuffs, slide down the spillover, and run into the woods. Good. And. Simple.

He walked around the path, moving at a brisk pace, talking nonstop. Neither of the agents seemed winded. He walked around a second time, moving faster. They kept up – Gibbs beside him; the pretty girl with the gun at his back. They stayed vigilant. Dean started on a third loop. Gibbs stopped him with a tug.

"You plan on doing anything more here than wasting our time and making up stories?"

"Yeah…" Dean blinked at the man. "Of course." His expression slid into an easy grin. "I noticed something on the other side. There were some tracks over there." Dean pointed toward the grate where the water was deep and dark. Gibbs looked like he might yank Dean back to the car. But the older man leveled his gaze at him.

"You've got ten more minutes. You better give me something."

**

The building was still in lock down. Sam had managed to avoid the guards so far. He'd originally intended to keep jumping people and changing disguises to keep ahead of the security – kinda like that shapeshifter had done to them in the bank. But after he'd taken the guard's clothes, he decided misdirection was a better tactic. It meant he still was parading around in smelly overalls, but the guards seemed to be checking each other out and staying odor distance from him. He'd changed out the bandana for a cap, too. So he felt like he was merging his original plan with his new one.

Saving Dean, however, had become problematic. His stupid brother had gotten them to take him away somewhere. Sam had seen him led outside in cuffs from a fourth floor window. Sam suspected Dean had an escape plan. Probably something like 'run fast for the trees', but his dumbass plans always seemed to work. Dean was probably already waiting at their meet-up site. Sam sighed. He refocused his rescue efforts on himself. He had to get out of NCIS headquarters, but first he needed to find something out.

Sam tried to avoid the cameras as best he could without appearing obvious about it. He made his way to Abby's lab. The electronic lock wasn't too much of an issue. Sam had a good grasp of electromagnetics and he'd listened to the play of notes when the door had been opened for him earlier in the week.

Sam sighed in relief at the empty lab. He felt guilty enough without having to scare Abby or try to explain hunting to her. She seemed open to the supernatural, but Sam guessed she thought he was an insane sociopath at this point.

He walked over to the instruments. It looked like the samples had just finished. He cocked his head. He and Abby had started them early that morning. They should have finished hours ago. She must have rerun them. Guilt flooded through him.

"I'm not the enemy…" He mumbled. Sam glanced at the door. Abby would be back to check the results any minute.

Sam hurried to the computer and pulled up the results. He glanced at them. The marks were made from an organic substance that had a chemical signature similar to squid ink. No surprise there. Another organic detected in the samples. It looked like an unknown hydrocarbon. He compared the graphs for the three victims. They had different amounts of the unknown in their systems. Sam squinted at the data.

"There's a pattern." He did some quick calculations. Lindsay George had about thirty percent of the unknown, the petty officer seventy percent, the marine ninety percent. Sam tapped his finger on the keyboard. "Huh."

He printed up the graph, grabbed pictures of the marks, and folded everything into his pocket. Lindsay George was victim number one. She died about eight days ago. The petty officer had been found four days ago, and the marine two days ago.

"Dammit." Sam turned and pulled on his cap. Four people were dead, not three. Another victim had to have been killed six days ago. Monster's followed patterns. He or she just hadn't been found yet. He shook his head. And if he had his pattern right, the wodnik was about to kill again. Sam cursed again moving towards the door, but stopped mid-stride. He sighed, feeling his face fall into a frown. He turned back, grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a note. He stepped back and looked down at it, biting at his lip. Sam left it on the counter.

He hurried out and pulled off his cap, making sure the camera caught his visage and trying not to look too obvious. He moved toward the exit letting two more closed circuits catch his face. Then he carefully made his way back to his closet. And the fact that he had a closet he considered his own in NCIS headquarters made his head scream. He changed into the uniform he'd stolen when he knocked out the guard. Right. Now he'd wait until they were searching for a janitor again and sneak out of the building. Yeah. That might work.

**

Gibbs put himself between Dean and the woods. The idiot was thinking about bolting. Gibbs barely stifled the urge to smack the smart ass on the back of the head. Dean hadn't done a damn thing other than walk around the path talking jibberish about monsters. To top it off, Gibbs's gut and his head were at odds on this one. If Dean had told him one thing that hadn't sounded certifiable, Gibbs would have been inclined to believe him. As it was, though, the kid was nuts.

Dean scrunched up his nose. "Getting kinda cold." He said. He shrugged his shoulders and peered into the water. Dean tilted his head and looked into the trees around the pond. He smirked at Gibbs. Gibbs crossed his arms. He'd had about enough of this crap.

"So…" Ziva said moving so Dean was trapped between the water and her and Gibbs. "You must chop off the head of a vampire to kill it?"

Dean's mouth twitched. "That's what I said."

Gibbs didn't think he was stupid enough to keep talking and give them more crimes to link to him, but apparently he was wrong. Dean kept going.

"And dead man's blood will incapacitate them so you can do it." He grinned. "I recommend a machete."

Ziva played along. "Perhaps a sword would suffice?"

Dean paused, contemplating. "In a bind. Sam killed a vampire with barbed wire once. Sometimes you've got to improvise." He continued, sounding pedantic and demanding. "And if you run into a demon use salt and holy water. Then find a friggin priest or hunter to exorcise the bastard. Oh, and to kill the wodnik, shoot the bastard in the eyes."

Ziva glanced at him, amused. "Of course. And silver for werewolves and shapeshifters, yes?"

Dean's lips twitched down. "I'm giving you pearls of wisdom here. I hope you never understand that."

"Let's get out…" Gibbs was cut off by the echoing sound of his cell ringing the quiet air. Dean and Ziva looked at him with curious expressions.

"Gibbs."

"_Boss."_

"Yeah McGee."

"_Sam Winchester got out of the building. He pretended to be a guard and dressed as a janitor, then he pretended to be a janitor and dressed as a guard." _ McGee exhaled over the phone._ "Anyway…he's out."_

"What?" Gibbs voice rang out angry. His hand wandered to his sidearm.

"_Sorry, boss. I figured out what he was up to, but not before he slipped out the gate." _There was a pause on the other end of the phone._ "He took some information from Abby's lab…um…we still have their car though." _McGee made the last part sound like good news.

"Well that's just great, McGee." Gibbs slammed his phone shut. "Dammit."

Ziva turned her attention towards him, continuing to block Dean's path to the woods. But handcuffed Dean Winchester didn't run for the woods. Instead, he jumped for the small, cold pond.

"Stop!" Ziva yelled pointing her gun at him. He dove beneath the water and didn't surface.

"Call it in, Ziva. Go to the other side." Gibbs yelled. "I'll stay here. He has to come back up." Gibbs sighed. "Don't hesitate to shoot." He hoped it wouldn't come to that.


	9. Chapter 9

Gibbs stared at the water. Dean didn't surface. Ziva waved her hands in confusion from across the lake. Gibbs scanned the area feeling tense and angry. He shouldn't have brought the suspect here. He knew the smart ass was thinking about escaping. But he felt like there was more to the story. Something about the Winchesters wasn't right… He could feel it. He'd thought he might get answers at the pond. But he didn't expect an escape plan as dumb as 'jump, handcuffed, into the freezing pond'. Gibbs glared at the water. The kid wasn't coming up. And he wasn't stupid. Which meant...

"He has a way out." Gibbs turned and stumbled down into the woods. He glanced around, feeling fury burning in his gut. The half-light of evening made everything lay in shadow - indistinct and threatening. A branched cracked to his right. Gibbs turned. Dean Winchester stood fifty feet away, shivering, and partially hidden by a tree. They locked eyes. Dean waved at him with his bound hands and ran flat out, disappearing into the trees.

"Dammit!" Gibbs pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. He ran towards where he'd seen the guy while hitting the speed dial. "McGee. You put the locater in Dean's cuffs before we left, right?"

_"Yeah, boss. But he's with you, right?"_

"Not anymore." Gibbs moved forward cautiously.

"_Oh."_

Gibbs didn't wait for any questions. "Track him. He'll ditch the restraints as soon as he gets the chance." Gibbs paused, feeling an idea forming.

_"Give me a sec." _McGee paused. _"Boss, he's in the woods, nearing the road. I'll send a team in right away."_

An image of Sam flashed in his mind. "No." He paused and turned back towards the path. "No. Tell them to hold back as long as possible. But get a visual."

_"Um...okay. Is there a reason or..."_

Gibbs smirked. "Because, McGee. He's going to contact his brother. And I'd rather have them both." Gibbs tromped back to the path. "And don't lose him." He slammed the phone shut. He saw the flashing of lights from the other side of the bank. He strode around the water to Ziva. She was talking with the first agents to arrive.

Gibbs pulled her aside. "He's in the woods. We've got a trace on him." He motioned to the arriving agents. "Make sure they check the water. I want to know how he got from this pond." Gibbs pointed at the water. "To those woods. See if he's hiding anything else here." More people arrived. "He doesn't get away."

**

Okay. The chains were a problem. Dean wanted them off. He wanted them off now. He could admit it. He slunk down against an Oak tree. He heard the whiz of cars from a nearby highway. Highway One, a stray thought supplied. It registered in his head that he should be running. Gibbs had seen him in the woods – the guy caught on even quicker than he thought – and had looked pissed as hell. The area would be crawling with police in no time.

He held up his hands. The metal appeared dull in the fading light. He grabbed a small twig from the damp ground. His hands shook as he tried to maneuver the stick and unlock the chains. _Snap._ The wood splintered.

"Dammit." He grabbed a second, sturdier looking twig. Fishing out the remnants of the first attempt, he tried picking the cuffs again. _Snap._ Frustrated, he bent sideways and slammed the metal against the tree. Nothing happened. He did it again. And again. And one more time until his wrists stung and the cuffs clanked brokenly. He thought that they'd busted but when he looked down the metal was stubbornly still in place.

Dean banged his head against the trunk. Not gonna get them off then. He glanced up at the branches above his head. The limbs of the tree swayed with the growing breeze. He looked back down at his bound hands. They trembled in the cuffs. He stared for a long minute.

The image morphed in his head into something else. Suddenly, the cold hurt his skin. It burned. Oh god, he was… He stifled a gasp, blinking rapidly. No. No. He was in the woods. The woods. And it was cold. Cold. Not hot. Not. Hot. He lumbered up. His whole body began shaking. The cold seeped down from his skin into his deep center. Cold. Clean and quiet air. Not choking with smoke, sulphur and deafening screams.

"Right." Dean pushed the unwanted images down deep. Hid them and locked them away and hoped to hell they'd stay there this time. He took a deep breath, feeling oddly comforted by the chill in his body. He glanced around. His ass needed to get in gear. NCIS was chasing him. He felt his brain slowing. Maybe that water was colder than he thought? He bit at his lip and concentrated. He should track down Sam. He shivered in his chains. Sam would know what to do about the cuffs and the wodnik and NCIS. He stumbled through the trees along side the road willing his feet to keep moving.

**

Gibbs watched the circus as men and women in various uniforms investigate the woods and the water. Three guys were hauling in large spotlights to light the darkening area. He tapped his fingers, impatient for McGee and Dinozzo to arrive. His phone rang.

"Where are you, McGee? We have a visual on the suspect yet."

"_Traffic. On our way. Uh…bad news boss…_

Gibbs lips twitched down. He waited. McGee seemed to be hesitating on the other end. "Out with it, McGee." Gibbs snapped.

"_The…uh…transmitter…it's stopped transmitting."_

Gibbs was sure as hell he hadn't heard that right. "What?"

"_About two minutes, ago. There's a team close, but they haven't actually seen him yet. Last location about a mile south of exit 405 off of highway one."_

Gibbs grit his teeth. The blood rushed through his veins. His voice came out in a growl. "That was the failsafe, McGee. You telling me it's not working?"

"_Yeah…I…ah…guess so."_

"Tell the team to move in. Now. Last known location. Do a sweep of the woods."

"_Called it in the moment we lost the signal, boss. But they haven't found him yet."_

Gibbs hung up the phone. Great. Instead of catching them both, they were going to lose them both. This entire night was a disaster.

"Gibbs!"

Gibbs turned to see Ziva motioning to him. He stomped over.

"Yeah?"

She nodded to the bank. Two men were fishing a bloated body out of the pond.

One of them, a tall guy with a beard, turned to him. "This your guy?" He asked.

Gibbs moved in closer. "No. It sure is hell isn't." He walked over and turned the left wrist. A teardrop mark marred the gray skin of the body.

**

Dean heard voices in the woods - low whispers carried on the wind. It didn't matter if they were real or in his head. They weren't good. He was sure of that. So he picked his feet up and ran through the trees. And despite the fact it was cold as the arctic and his mind was moving at a snails pace, he was glad for the wind. It hid the loud cracks of his footfalls on the forest floor. He ran as fast and far as he could until he stumbled onto a side road with a gas station.

He snickered and snuck around an old pick-up. It was unlocked. And he wasn't feeling so cold now. Had stopped shivering, even. True, it was getting a little harder to concentrate, but it had been a long day. And he might not be able to pick his cuffs open, but he could sure as hell hotwire a car with them on. He could do that in his sleep. He pulled the handle. His hands slipped off.

"Ah…Fuck it." Dean tried again. The door opened. He grinned, got inside, and got the truch started. He pulled out of the lot. He hoped Sam would be at the meeting spot. Somewhere, deep in his head, it occurred to him that not shivering was actually a bad thing. He turned the heat on. Cold air rushed out. Dean sighed and tried not to crash the truck into anything or anyone. Ten minutes later, he pulled into the Dover motel lot. He congratulated himself for remembering where it was located. He stumbled out of the truck and hit the concrete hard. He decided the best plan now was to lay there for a moment and rest.

A moment later, Dean was pulled from his would be rest on the pavement by a horrid smell. He scrunched up his nose and looked up. A figure with dopey hair, dressed in NCIS security gear, towered over him.

"Sammy!" Dean said, trying to pull himself up. He grinned dumbly at his brother. Sam grabbed his arm and helped him to vertical. Dean sniffed. "Dude, you smell."

Sam frowned. "Yeah." Sam glanced around the lot with a wary expression. Dean guessed he was looking for police and federal agents. Sam turned back to him, apparently content they were alone for now. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded.

Sam pushed him toward a gray Ford Focus in the lot. "The wodnik is going to kill again. We've gotta move fast before…" Sam paused. His eyes raked over Dean's wrists and hands. "Geezus, Dean." Sam huffed and continued to maneuver him to the car. He pushed him inside. "You're freezing. And what the hell did you do to your wrists?"

"Jumped in the pond."

Sam gave him a disbelieving stare. "The pond with the wodnik? Dean, what the hell? The thing could have been home." His brother sounded pissed. He shook his head and continued talking. "Like I was saying the wodnik is following a pattern. We need to stop it before…"

"Before…" Dean repeated. Sam's lips twisted down again and he stared at Dean more appraisingly. Dean didn't know what Sam's problem was. Kid always had some problem or another. Maybe he was pissed Dean had jumped in the pond? Dean leaned back against the seat. "He's a commuter…" He mumbled.

Sam's face twisted in confusion. His eyes focused back on Dean's wrists.

"No teardrops." Dean held up his hands. "Banged 'em against the tree." The words came out slurred. "Want 'em off." Dean felt himself getting agitated again. He leaned into Sam's space. "Now, Sam. Now!"

Sam's eyes widened in concern. Dean would have found it comical, but everything was starting to dull out of focus. He thought he heard someone calling for him, but he was too tired to really give a damn, and let his eyelids fall shut.

**

Three hours and no trace of the suspect. Either suspect. Agents were still scouring the area, but Gibbs knew they wouldn't find Dean. Sam hadn't surfaced at all since he walked…yes walked…past the gate. He paced around the desks, glowering at Dinozzo, Ziva, and McGee. They hurried around, frantically looking for a lead.

Tony waved a printout in front of him. "A stolen vehicle was just reported near to the last known whereabouts of one Dean Winchester."

Gibbs nodded. "Find him." He headed for the elevator. He needed a cup of damn coffee. He turned back. "Find them both."

The elevator door opened. Abby stood inside. She bit at her lower lip and looked at Gibbs with big, concerned eyes.

"Abby?"

She held out a piece of paper. "It's a note. Sam left it for me in the lab, Gibbs." Resolve flooded into her expression. "You should see it." She nodded. "Yeah. You should see it. Here." She handed him the paper. Gibbs looked at it.

_Abby – _

_I'm not what they say I am. You have to know that. Check my file – the evidence doesn't add up. If you run into something else you can't explain, call the number at the back of this and leave a message. I'll help."_

_Sam. _


	10. Chapter 10

_**Note: Sorry this one is a little late. Probably two more chapters. I'll try to get them up a bit faster. I hope you enjoy!**_

Dean awoke in the backseat of the small compact Ford Focus. His handcuffs were off which was a big plus but so were most of his clothes. He tried to make sense of that information but his sluggish thoughts stalled on it and he stared ahead dumbly. He concentrated on the sunlight shining through the glass. It seemed to break him from his haze. Glancing down, he found Sam's giant arms wrapped around him. What the? Oh. Right. There'd been water and woods and cold. He wriggled in Sam's grip. Sam tightened his arms.

"Dean…calm down, man. S'okay." Sam sounded weary.

Dean screwed his head sideways and glared at his brother. "No. It's not. Let me go."

Sam wrinkled up his nose and blinked his eyes. He cocked his head so he could stare into Dean's face for a moment. "Fine." He said after a few seconds. Yawning, he loosened his grip. Dean shuffled away – or at least as far away as he could get in the backset. "You were thrashing." Sam said.

Dean grunted. What the hell did that mean? Thrashing? He frowned at Sam. "What the hell does that mean, Sam?"

Sam shrugged. He began to fidget on the seat in some sort of movement that resembled stretching. "What does it sound like it means?"

So…Sam was in full bitch mode this morning. Great. Just great. Dean rubbed his eyes and took in the car. Most of his clothes were hanging over the front seat. He gathered them up and threw them on, wincing as he felt the cold material rub against his skin.

Sam watched him. He motioned to Dean's wrists. "I didn't have anything to wrap those with."

"No need." Dean winced at the sore skin. "Just scraped and bruised." Sam wore a doubtful expression. Dean patted him on the shoulder. "Really, Sam. It's fine."

Sam crossed his arms and shifted his gaze out the window. "Whatever."

Dean paused, contemplating his brother. Sam's jaw kept clenching and unclenching. His body was tense. "What's got your panties in a bind?"

"I'm fine, Dean." He said with a deep undertone that suggested the exact opposite.

Dean lifted his palms up in surrender. Sometimes it was better to let Sam work out whatever got under his skin on his own. The boy was sensitive. Always had been. "Okay…" Probably best to distract Sam with some shop talk. It was time to get to work anyway. "What's our status with the case?"

Sam's thin lips softened into a frown. "I figured out the wodnik's pattern." He picked at a thread on his jeans. "It's gonna kill again today…if it didn't do so already last night."

"Huh." Dean said. He shifted on his seat, ignoring the stitch in his back. They needed to tie this one up. "What all do we know?"

"Other than were screwed." Sam yanked the thread he was picking taut. "This was a stupid plan. You know that. We don't have the car, our phones, or any of the weapons…"

Dean motioned to Sam's belt. "You have a gun."

Sam's nostrils flared. "Yeah. Because I stole it from the guy I knocked out." He crossed his arms. "While I was escaping from _NCIS Headquarters_, Dean. I was afraid this would happen. I told you so."

Dean made a dismissive grunt. "So. And hey. We both escaped. How awesome are we? We're like folk legends. You know…Bonnie and Clyde…" Dean grinned. "Butch and Sundance."

"Right." Sam's expression darkened. "You know all those people died, right?"

"We've died."

"Besides…" Sam glowered at him. "There was nothing awesome about your escape."

Offense riled Dean and his words came out accusing. "Nothing awesome about escaping from two trained and capable feds. Really, Sam?"

"No." Sam cut in. His face turned red and his voice came out low. "I spent all night warming you up, trying to keep you awake, and when you were quasi-awake you…" Sam clamped his mouth shut.

"I what?"

"Forget it."

Dean sighed. This was the point he should do just that. Sweep whatever it was under the floor mat and leave it there. He felt his face flush. "No. Tell me. What the hell did I do to piss you off so much?" The words came out fast and hard.

Sam held his gaze. His lip trembled and he looked down, shoulders slumping. Dean kept his eyes on his brother. Sam took in a deep breath. He straightened up, meeting Dean's eyes with his full-force stubborn face.

"You shouldn't have to run from the feds, Dean. They should be kissing your ass with all the stuff you've put down."

"Okay." The non-sequitur gave Dean pause. "Yours too, then." He added awkwardly. Sam didn't answer. He slumped back down in the seat looking like an oversized kid in a time-out. Dean sat beside him and waited. He knew what this was about. When Sam didn't speak, he decided to address it. "Look, Sammy. I'm sorry if…" Dean felt heat flush his cheeks. "If my…thrashing…upset you. But I was cold and…well…you know…some things, they get better, but they just never go away…"

"I know." Sam said after a moment. He looked at Dean. "How are we gonna fix this?"

"The case?"

"Yeah. The case. The car. The weapons. The feds." Sam opened his eyes big like the problem was obvious.

"You said you figured out a pattern?" Dean said.

Sam nodded and told him what he'd found out.

Dean leaned back. "Huh. Well, I got an idea on how to get back the car and the weapons. But it'll have to wait for now." Dean apologized silently to the car. Sent her a telepathic message assuring the Impala that he'd get her rescued as soon as he could. "As for the case and the feds… " An easy smirk slid across his face. "I got a plan on how to handle both, but we gotta find a phone."

**

Gibbs met with Tony and McGee at seven in the morning. People were beginning to trickle into work and the building started to hum with activity. He'd assigned Ziva to stay with Abby. Until the Winchester's were apprehended, he wasn't taking chances.

McGee cleared his throat. "We found the stolen truck, but no other sign of Dean or his brother, boss." He shook his head. "The local LEOs have been combing the area most of the night. Nothing so far."

Gibbs stood. Waited. McGee stared at him.

Tony stepped away from his desk, patted the McGee on the back. "Thanks, McNoNews." Tony smirked. His voice rang with confidence. "Just got off the phone with Ducky. He's identified the body as Melvin Kinsey – a medic from the base."

"That's the same person Dean Winchester was sniffing around yesterday when I apprehended him." Gibbs mind itched. "Ducky got a time of death?"

"Nothing exact yet." Tony said. "But he says the man's been dead for days. He's not the guy from yesterday, boss. That's for sure."

"Picture." Gibbs said. McGee brought up an image of a young man with red hair. "Definitely not the man Winchester talked to." Gibbs paced. "Find out everything you can about Kinsey." Gibbs's desk phone rang.

"Yeah." He said, pulling the receiver to his ear.

"_Agent Gibbs?_"

Gibbs took in a deep breath. "Sam." He motioned to McGee for a trace.

"_I need to talk to you."_

"You could've just left me note." Gibbs heard him sigh over the receiver. Gibbs continued. "I don't like people toying with Abby, Sam."

"_What? No." _ Sam's voice came out hurt. _"I just wanted to apologize to her." _There was a pause. _"Look. You don't believe me. I get that. I really do. But this thing's gonna kill again; if it hasn't already. And it's not stopping anytime soon." _He paused. Gibbs heard arguing over the line. Sam came back with an exasperated tone. _"Dean says you need to check on the people from the reports he swiped." _

Gibbs tapped the desk. He wondered how often the phrase 'Dean says" had fallen off Sam's tongue through the years. He glanced at McGee. The agent typed furiously at his computer. He held up two fingers. Gibbs nodded. He could keep the kid talking. "Well if Dean says I should do it…" He said.

"_Well Dean's got good instincts. And so do I. You need to stop this thing."_

"I thought that was your job." Gibbs said.

"_You're making it impossible for me to do my job." _Sam paused. "_You still have my phone, right? I call back on it soon._" The line went dead.

Gibbs clinked the phone down. "McGee?"

"Ha. Got him, boss." McGee's fingers flew over the keys. His eyes squinted at the screen. "He called from a payphone off of James Avenue." He looked up. "What do you want to do?"

Gibbs glanced at the picture of Kinsey again. No doubt the Winchesters were already distancing themselves from the payphone. Gibbs inhaled, making a decision. "Get me Sam's phone." Gibbs turned to McGee. "If he calls me on it, can you find him?"

McGee considered it and nodded. "Shouldn't be a problem, boss."

"Good." Gibbs grabbed his pack. "Stay here. Keep in contact. Have teams ready to move in. Sam and Dean are going to stay in the area." He turned towards Tony. "Dinozzo, you're with me."

"Right-o, boss." Tony half shrugged as he holstered his gun and pulled out the keys to the state car. "Um…where exactly are we going?"

Gibbs held up the incidence reports. "To talk to the people in the reports and..." He motioned to the image of Melvin Kinsey. "The person pretending to be Melvin Kinsey."


	11. Chapter 11

Sam met Dean at the car. His brother shifted in the driver's seat as Sam strode up. Dean still looked pale and tired. He motioned to his wrist and waved to Sam to hurry. Dean's fingers thumped the dash with impatience. The car was moving before Sam had the passenger side door pulled shut.

"I told him I'd call back." Sam said. "You get them?"

"Yeah." Dean tossed a bag into his lap. "Three disposable cell phones. I disconnected the GPS, but I doubt it'll take them long to find us with all the damn towers. "

"They'll be able to triangulate the signal in a matter of minutes." Sam pulled out one of the phones. He didn't ask how Dean had paid. He was fairly certain he hadn't. Especially since he had no wallet. The thought didn't bother him at all. But the fact that it didn't bother him, made him feel a little empty.

Dean drove a few miles down the road and pulled into a grocery store parking lot. He grabbed at the bag. "Gimme a phone."

"Aleady?"

"Yeah. I need to call Cas."

Sam shrugged and handed him one. Dean dialed. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel while waiting for the angel to pick-up; eyes gliding over the dashboard. He scrunched his nose at the passenger side airbag light. Dean sighed. "Voicemail." Dean said.

"Leave a message."

Dean frowned at the phone. "I don't think he knows how to check it." Dean's mouth quirked. "I suppose it can't hurt, huh?" He spoke into the receiver. "Hey. I need to talk to you. Sam and I are in Virginia. Get here." He hung up.

Sam pulled a second phone out of the bag. His face twitched as he tried to hide a grin. He glanced at his brother. "You shouldn't be so bossy, Dean."

"What?"

"You." Sam pointed at him. "You shouldn't boss the angel around like that." Sam gave him a meaningful look. "Just because he has some sort of man crush on you, that doesn't mean you should take advantage." He patted Dean's shoulder. "Manners, man."

Dean stilled and turned with his mouth comically agape. "Cas does not have a damn 'man crush' on me, Sam." He spat out in a loud and rushed voice.

"Fine." Sam held up his hands. And maybe Sam had been waiting awhile to hit Dean with this bit of insight. Lighten the mood. Piss Dean off. Same thing. "Angel crush, then. Whatever." Sam nodded, keeping his face serious. Dean threw the phone at his head. Then he sat up straighter and put the car into drive.

"Let's do this." Dean said. "Call him, Sam."

Gibbs answered on the second ring.

"_Sam. You ready to give yourself up?"_

Sam rolled his eyes; didn't rise to the bait. "Like I said, you want to stop this thing from killing again, you need to listen to me." Sam heard road noise over the phone.

"_Alright. Why don't you explain it to me."_ Gibbs said. _"Who is it I need to save, Sam?"_

Sam took in a breath. Dean poked him and motioned for him to hurry. Sam slapped him away. "Look. Just get to those people from the medic's office reports. Put them somewhere safe. Their lives are in danger."

"_I'll need more than that to order protective custody."_

Sam snorted at the attempt to lengthen the conversation. Dean mouthed 'Time' at him. Sam was about to disconnect when Gibbs's voice rang out again.

"_Medic's been dead six days."_

"Are you sure? How?" Sam was about to prod for more info when Dean reached over and slammed the phone shut.

"Dude…" Dean said, huffing in annoyance. "The idea is _not _to get caught again."

Sam turned to him. "Gibbs said the medic you talked to yesterday's been dead six days."

Dean shook his head and turned the ignition. "Son of a bitch."

They drove in silence for a few minutes. Dean pulled onto wooded road, checking the rearview mirror.

Sam pursed his lips. "What do you want to do? Go back to the medic's office?"

"I don't know. The feds are probably watching it." Dean glanced in the rearview mirror again.

"What's wrong?"

"Sherriff's deputy behind us." Dean bit his lip. "It's probably nothing. I mean, they couldn't have tracked us down yet."

"Yeah." Sam glanced in the side mirror. The lights on top the car in the reflection began to flash blue. "Dammit." Sam said, sinking into the seat.

**

Gibbs pulled into the brick driveway of Lieutenant Paul Tolk's split level home, one of the two names of the reports. No one had been able to get in touch with the man. The other individual, a Pauline Manny, was at the station. Gibbs stepped out of the car. He stared at the house. Tony rummaged in the trunk, ribbing McGee over the phone.

"McGee says a deputy may have spotted the Winchesters leaving downtown. He's pulling a stolen Ford Focus over near the origin of the last cell call."

Gibbs nodded. "We'll see if they call back." His eyes wandered over the lawn and front door. "It's quiet. Careful, Dinozzo."

Tony knocked on the door. No response. He did it again. Nothing. Gibbs walked to the window, peaked inside. Inside, he saw two men struggling.

"Dinozzo!" Gibbs pulled out his gun. "Break it down!"

Tony kicked at the door. The frame gave way, opening the house. Gibbs carefully entered. Tony followed, pulling out his sidearm. The floor was damp and mushy under Gibbs's feet as he moved forward silently on the carpet. He heard Tony's damp footfalls behind him. They entered the living room.

Inside, the man from the medic's office – the fake Kinsey – held Lt. Paul Tolk by the neck. Water spilled from the officer's lips like a macabre fountain. His eyes bulged as did his belly. There was no struggle now.

"Let him go!" Tony yelled from behind him.

Gibbs aimed at the man and stepped around him to block the back exit. The fake Kinsey's eyes darted from him to Tony. No fear shone in their depths, nor did any inclination to stop.

_Bang. Bang._ Tony fired. Two solid shots to the back. The man held his ground.

"Give it up." Gibbs said with his gaze trained on the man. "You're under arrest."

The bald man glowered back. He dropped the body of Paul Tolk and faced Gibbs. "Eight deaths for eight insults." The words had a formal flare, but the man delivered them in a voice rusty with age. "I take as I am entitled." Defiance flashed across his face. "Rules are rules."

"You kill a marine in my town, I take you down. And that ain't rules; that's just facts." Gibbs stood his ground. "I can bring you in cuffed or in a body bag. Choice is yours."

"No damn respect these days." The fake Kinsey sneered. "Insult upon insult. Your ancestor's knew how to honor my kind. None of this young and uppity crap." He twisted around on his feet, his sneer aimed at Gibbs, then Tony, then back to Gibbs.

"Alright." Tony stepped closer, pulling the man's attention back to him while staying out of his reach. "Calm down, Grandpa. Are we doing this the easy way or not?" Tony chuckled. "Cause I gotta tell you. The boss, there..." He nodded towards Gibbs. "Is itching for the hard way."

"Your kind owes three more tributes."

Gibbs raised his gun higher, setting his sights on the man's murky eyes as he turned. The fake Kinsey's face tightened in surprise. He moved forward. Gibbs fired, hitting him in the left eye. The bald man grabbed at his wound, snarling.

"Don't move." Gibbs warned.

The man exhaled in a long, raspy grunt. He caught Gibbs's gaze. Then his body splashed into a non-descript puddle like a popped water balloon. Gibbs and Tony held their ground.

Tony inched forward, patting the puddle with his foot. "Have you ever seen something like this before, boss?"

Gibbs inhaled. "No."

"You think we got him?"

Gibbs glanced down at the wet carpet. "Nope." He put up his gun.

"Yeah." Tony bent down near the body of Lt. Polk. "That's what I thought." He put his fingers over the man's pulse point in his neck. He stood up with a saddened expression. "I'll call it in."

**

Dean tapped the steering wheel watching the lights blink in the rearview. He turned to Sam. "Think this thing can outrun him?"

Sam sunk deeper into his seat. "Maybe. But not the radio." Sam patted his chest. "I have the guard's ID, but he doesn't look much like me."

"Right." Dean pulled onto the shoulder of the quiet road. He plastered on his best 'aw shucks' grin and waited. "We'll just have to improvise." Dean said.

Sam snorted. "Maybe we've been cursed with bad luck again."

"Nah." Dean watched the car pull in behind him. "Bad luck's our default."

The deputy walked up to the car. He had light hair and eyes and looked young. Well. He was about Sam's age, so maybe green was a better description. Dean rolled down the window.

"There a problem, Deputy?"

The deputy paled as he caught sight of Dean. He rested his hand on his gun. "I'll need you to step out, Sir." He gripped the gun tighter. "Both of you."

Dean nodded. "Okay…maybe we could talk about…"

"Now!" The deputy unholstered the weapon.

Dean blanched at the hysterical tone from the man. "Okay. We're getting out." He opened the door slowly with one hand while keeping his other up. Sam did the same. "Everybody's calm here."

The deputy aimed his gun at Dean's head. Which made Dean very uncomfortable. Especially when the deputy's hand began to shake.

"Heh." Dean motioned to himself and Sam. "We're gonna cooperate."

"Put your hands on the car. Keep them where I can see them!"

Dean placed his hands on the top of the car. He caught Sam's eyes across the hood. Sam shook his head and cut his eyes at the deputy.

Dean cleared his throat. "Look. There's gotta be a mistake, deputy. What's this even about?" He shifted back.

"Stay put!"

Dean stilled.

The deputy reached into his shirt radio. "I've got two white males, match the description of a set of BOLOs sent out yesterday." His voice sounded shaky. Sam caught Dean's eyes.

"Sir." Sam said using his earnest tone. "This is a mistake. I have identification."

The deputy moved his weapon towards Sam. Sam held his palm up. He slowly moved his hand towards his pocket.

Dean held his breath, watching Sam. He heard the barrel of a gun click. Huh? He turned to the deputy, just in time to see him pull the trigger.

"No!" Dean charged the deputy. He wrestled the gun from him. Pulling back, he hit the deputy hard with the gun barrel. The man stilled. Dean jumped up.

"Sam!" He ran around the side of the car. Sam hobbled up, blinking in confusion.

"Why'd he shoot at me?" Sam grabbed his shoulder.

Dean patted him down. "Because he's a twitchy idiot who shouldn't be allowed near a gun and whose father's probably sheriff. You okay?" Dean glanced around. It was the middle of the afternoon. Someone would be driving down the road soon.

Sam grimaced. "Yeah." His lips twisted down and he pulled his shoulder closer.

Dean ran back around the car. He grabbed the unconscious deputy, none to gently, and pulled him into the back seat of the Ford Focus. "Well take the squad car." Dean said.

"Okay. But I'm shot."

Dean stilled. Sam lumbered towards the deputy's car.

"You're shot. You said you were okay."

"Had worse." Sam grimaced. "I think." He added with a weak smile.

"Let me see, Sam."

Sam frowned. "Get us out of here first. And make sure the LoJack on the car is turned off." Sam let Dean open the door. He plopped down in the passenger seat.

"And I'm bossy?" Dean contemplated him. "You sound okay." Dean said. "Keep pressure on that. And if I think you need a hospital, you're going to the hospital. Fed's be damned."

"Dean…" Sam looked pale, clammy. "I've been shot before. We didn't need a hospital."

"That doesn't make me feel better, Sam." Dean got into the driver's seat. He pulled the deputy's car onto the road and scanned the highway for a good hiding place.

"We can't go to the hospital, Dean." Sam huffed, sounding annoyed. "You should call Gibbs back." Sam closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. "Warn him about the medic. He's gotta be the wodnik."

"He's probably figured some of that out." Dean pulled the car behind a large billboard. He leaned across the seat towards his brother. "Sam?" Dean said. Sam didn't answer. "Sam?" He said again, feeling his blood pumping faster.

"What?" Sam squinted at him, his face twisted with pain and irritation. "I'm trying to relax here, Dean."

Dean reached over and made Sam move his hand so he could get a look at the wound. "You need a doctor. And meds."

Sam huffed. "You're my doctor. Patch me up. Get some whiskey."

Dean glared at him. It was getting cold again. Dean rubbed his arms for warmth. He rummaged through the car until he found a first aid kit and blanket. "I'm gonna bandage that." He dumped the blanket on Sam's lap.

Sam grunted.

Dean paused. "You liked that doctor at NCIS right? The autopsy guy." Dean asked, watching his brother.

"I'm not dead, Dean." Sam turned towards him. His pained expression turned suspicious. "Why?"

"I'll…you know…nab him."

Sam laughed, but then his face twisted in pain at the movement. "Nab him?"

"When he leaves the building. Then you'll get a doctor and Gibbs will have another reason to listen to me."

Sam stared at him for a moment. "Dude, Gibbs is gonna kill you if you do that."

"Heh." Dean bit his lip. He looked away. "You might be right. But you'll have a doctor." He pulled the blanket over Sam.

Sam pushed it away and back at Dean. "You're still cold."

"But I'm not shot." Dean pushed it back. He rubbed his hand over his face. "I should've hit that guy a few more times."


	12. Chapter 12

Dean pulled his jacket tighter around his chest and watched Sam. His brother leaned his head against the window taking in deep, controlled breaths; the breathing technique their Dad had taught them to control pain. Dean reached up and rubbed his own shoulder feeling a sympathetic tinge of pain. Sam needed help. Dean collected his thoughts, scanning the vehicle. It had a computer. And access to the DMV database. He searched for Doctor Mallard's license information and address.

"Easy as pie, Sammy. We'll get you fixed up in no time." He patted his brother's knee. Sam stayed quiet and kept taking in those controlled inhales. Dean glanced at him every few seconds.

"I'm fine." Sam said, moving only his lips.

"Yeah. Sure." Dean shook his head. "Looks like it." He started the car and grabbed one of the unused phones. He dialed the angel again. The voicemail picked up. "Hey. I need to talk to you. Call me back…" Dean glanced at Sam again. He cleared his throat. "Uh...please." Sam managed to pry an eyelid open and chuckle.

**

Dean frowned at the large home as they drove up. It was set on a big lot in the rich part of town and had big doors and a high roof. Dean parked the vehicle so it could not be seen from the road. The building loomed on the manicured ground, big and empty.

The house didn't have an alarm. Dean busted a window with a brick and climbed inside. He unlocked the back door, went back out to the car and rousted Sam. Blood stained the front of his brother's shirt, but the car seat was clean. Dean's face wrinkled in concern.

"Come on." Dean helped him up and maneuvered him toward the house. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I've been shot." Sam half-shrugged, stumbling towards the door.

Dean pulled him towards the living room. He pointed at a large chenille sofa with carved wooden details.

"Sit."

Sam nodded and sunk onto the cushions. Suddenly he sat up straight, keeping his body from touching the fabric. "Get me a towel or something. I don't want to bleed on his furniture."

"I'm sure the doc can afford a new couch." Dean scrunched his nose at the room. All sorts of…well… expensive looking crap…filled the tables and shelves in the house.

"Dean…"

"Fine. " He said, opening doors off the room. He found the bathroom and rummaged for towels. Hell. Those were probably expensive too. He padded the couch behind his brother. "You okay? I'm gonna check out the rest house."

"Yeah." Sam leaned back. He huffed. "Don't mess up his stuff."

Dean saw no reason to dignify that with a response.

"I'm serious, Dean."

"He's going to be our hostage, not our host, Sam." Dean said. Sam cut his eyes at him. Dean's lips twitched down. "As long as you agree to rest."

He tucked the NCIS guard's gun in his pocket and the deputy's pistol in his pants and left to check for supplies, potential exits, and security information. He turned the heat up to warm the house. Dean stopped in the back den. His lips twitched up. There in the corner sat a beautiful sight – a large, wooden, fully-stocked liquor cabinet. Dean opened it, eyes getting wide. Cognac. Brandy. Two bottles of thirty year old Scotch. Nice.

"Here." Dean went back to the living room and handed Sam a bottle of Scotch. "Drink up, Sammy boy. It'll take the edge off."

Sam cracked open an eyelid and took a sip. "Now what?" He sounded far too rough for Dean's comfort.

"Now." Dean placed the deputy's gun on his lap. "We wait for the doc."

**

Doctor Mallard arrived home around nine o'clock. Dean pressed the pistol against his back. He stuck his hands into the doctor's pocket, earning a death glower from the man, and took his cell phone and car keys.

"Holding me hostage is not going to help your cause, young man." He sounded more annoyed than afraid.

"Yeah?" Dean darkened his expression. He spoke in a terse, rough tone. He needed to play the part. Be the dangerous psychopath. Get Sam the help he needed. "And what do you know about my cause?" He pushed the doctor forward with the barrel of the gun. "Living room." Doctor Mallard twisted his head back to fix Dean with a hard glare, but he moved forward.

Sam was slumped down on the couch. The bottle of Scotch lay empty on the floor beside him.

"M'sorry, Ducky…" Sam slurred. His head lolled to the side. "Told Dean…didn't need a doctor." Sam winced and grabbed for the second bottle. He stared at the top for a moment and then held it up towards Dean to open.

"Okay…" Dean grabbed the bottle, keeping his weapon aimed at the doctor. "I think you've had enough, Sammy."

"But…" Sam's lip pouted out and he stared at Dean with big eyes. "M'hurt, Dean." Sam groaned on the couch.

Dean winced in sympathy. He tapped his free hand against his thigh. He frowned and motioned the doctor towards Sam

"Very well, then." The doctor said. He turned to Sam. "Let's have a look." He leaned down beside Sam, keeping a steady eye on Dean. He pushed Sam's hand away from his shoulder and pulled at the fabric. The doctor turned his attention to the wound. He pursed his lips and shook his head. "Oh, my…"

Dean fidgeted back and forth on his feet. "It's Ducky, right?" Dean said. "How is he?"

"It's Doctor Mallard to you." He said. It reminded Dean of being reprimanded by a teacher. He felt a defensive blush spread across his face. The doctor glanced back up at him. "Your brother needs a hospital, Mr. Winchester." He set an appraising glance at Dean.

Dean swallowed and considered it. But he also knew a wounded, drugged up, in custody Sam would be a sitting duck for every dark thing after them. Dean shifted on his feet. Still. If Sam needed a hospital...

Doctor Mallard continued to watch him. Dean pulled out the disposable phone with his spare hand. He tried calling the angel again. Voicemail. He cursed and slammed the cell back in his pocket. He let out an exhale. He'd have to trust Sam on this one.

"Sam?"

Sam smiled at him. "M'okay." He frowned down at his shoulder. "No hospital. Bullet needs to come out…"

"Okay." Dean bit at his bottom lip. "You heard him. Get it out." He said in a quiet voice. He turned his full attention back to the doctor. "And patch him up."

"You understand that course of action will be quite painful. Not to mention dangerous for your brother. This is not an operating room." The doctor cleared his throat. "It should be taken out surgically. In a clean environment and with proper anesthetic."

Dean felt the blood drain from his face. He was tempted to pack Sam up and take him to the nearest emergency room; feds, demons and angels be damned. He peered down at the wound. It was bad. But he was trying to trust Sam again. And Sam didn't want the hospital. Dean's face fell. "No." He felt guilty saying it. "No. You take it out." He gazed at the doctor. "What do you need?"

"What I need is a hospital!" The doctor hit him with a hard expression. "This is ridiculous. I'm not going to pull a bullet out of Sam in my living room!"

Sam shifted on the couch. "S'okay, Ducky." He patted the towels the around him. "Dean put down towels to keep the blood off the fabric…"

Doctor Mallard peered down at him, staring at Sam for a long moment. Dean raised his gun, making his decision. "Either you take the bullet out of him, or I put one into you. Got it?" He said.

Doctor Mallard's expression twitched. He looked like he might flat out refuse. Dean raised the gun again. He and the doctor held gazes.

"Very well." The doctor said finally. He sighed. "My medical bag is in the foyer closet."

Dean walked him to it, making sure the gun was in view.

"You know, Dean…" Doctor Mallard said. "If you are innocent, Agent Gibbs can help you."

"Right." Dean said opening the closet door. "I'm sure I'm on his Christmas list by now." He leaned down and picked up the bag with his spare hand. "You need anything else."

The doctor stilled, his face turned thoughtful. "There was another drowning death today."

"Dammit." That put the total to five.

The doctor held up his hand. "From what I gather, it's apparent neither you nor Sam are responsible. Gibbs certainly suspects there's more going on here than is obvious." He looked at Dean with imploring eyes. "Turn yourself in. This…" He waved around the room. "Could end very badly for you and your brother. Cooperate and we can help you, Dean."

Dean listened to the doctor's tone, watched his expression. He knew the man believed what he said. Dean's lip's twitched down.

"No one can help us."

Dean pointed him towards the living room. Once settled, he held Sam hand, grimacing as the doctor cut into his brother's other shoulder. Sam squeezed hard as his body tensed at the incision. Dean's bit inside his cheek, concentrating on not pulling away.

"Can't you give him anything?"

"I'm afraid I cannot give him narcotics after an entire bottle of Scotch." Doctor Mallard peered down at the wound. "Hand me the forceps, will you, Dean?"

Dean picked them up. The metal felt cold and unforgiving in his hand. He paused; then handed them to the doc. Dean leaned forward so he could watch the procedure. The doctor peered down at Sam's shoulder. He stuck the metal carefully into the break in the skin.

"SShhitt!" Sam jerked, pulling Dean sideways. His brother was looking more and more sober every minute.

Doctor Mallard shook his head and turned to Dean. "I can't get the bullet out unless he remains still."

Dean nodded. He looked at Sam. "Hey, Sammy." He offered him a shaky smile. "I'm gonna have to hold you down so the doctor can get the bullet out. Alright? I know it hurts, but you'll be okay. You understand?"

Sam stared up at him. His brow's knitted together and his lips fell into an annoyed line. "I'm not a freakin' kid anymore, Dean." Sam huffed. "I get it." He swallowed and turned to the doctor. "I'll...stay still." He glanced back at Dean, sounding completely sober now. "You don't need to hold me down. I can handle it." He gave Dean's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Okay." Dean nodded to the doctor.

This time Doctor Mallard moved slowly, pulling at the wound with sure hands. "You know, Sam, this reminds me of my third year of medical school."

Sam gritted his teeth. "Yeah?" He forced out, tightening his hold so that Dean's ring bit into his skin. "How so?"

"One of my fellow medical students managed to lodge a thimble in Coracoid process of his scapula." The doctor pushed in the metal. "Oh, it was quite the scandal. Apparently the object of interest belonged to a professor's wife." He pursed his lips and squeezed the handles, talking to Sam again as he moved the instrument. "How it ended up there, is still a mystery." He pulled out the forceps carefully. They gleamed red with blood and contained a single metal bullet clasped in their grasp. The doctor smiled. "There." He set the bullet on the side table and grabbed bandages. "Now…let's patch you up."

Dean watched Sam as the doctor wrapped the wound.

"You okay, Sam?"

Sam nodded. He held up their clasped hands. Dean grinned dumbly and let go. Sam looked up at him. "Your hands are cold." He said.

"That's 'cause it's cold in here."

"It's about a thousand degrees in here, Dean." Sam's face scrunched in concern. He looked at the doctor with his big, sad eyes and motioned towards Dean.

Doctor Mallard paused to consider him.

"What!"

The doctor looked like he was considering offering to check Dean over. Then he shook his head and turned back to Sam. Probably remembering he was a hostage. Dean bristled. Like he gave a damn. Doctor Mallard finished his work and patted Sam on the shoulder.

"All done." Doctor Mallard straightened up. "Now, what is it you plan to do here, Dean?"

Dean inhaled. "You said there had been another death?" The doctor nodded. Dean continued. "Did Gibbs see it happen?"

"I'm not really at liberty to discuss ongoing cases with suspects or kidnappers, Dean

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'll take that as a yes." He pulled out the Doctor's phone. Gibbs's name was near the top of the contacts list. "I need to speak with him."

"I hope you are coming to your senses and planning on turning yourselves in."

Dean smirked at him. "Now why would we do that, Doc?"

The doctor bristled. "Because your brother's been shot and you are obviously not well. If you are indeed innocent, Dean, we can help. But not if you keep playing these ridiculous games."

"Sorry, Doc." Dean glanced down. "I don't really have a choice here."

Doctor Mallard let out an exasperated sigh. "Then what exactly do you plan to do?"

Dean pulled the gun out of his pocket. The doctor's eyes widened. "I'm not gonna shoot you." Dean grumbled, handing the weapon to Sam. "You just keep Sam here company. I'm gonna go talk to your boss." Dean glanced at Sam's shoulder again. He shifted on his feet. "And…um…Doctor Mallard, thanks, you know, for taking care of Sam."

"An appropriate thank you…" He huffed. "Would end with me _not_ being held hostage."

"Yeah. Sorry 'bout that." Dean pursed his lips. "Keep an eye on him, Sam."

"Where are you going?" Sam rested the gun against his thigh and pointed it at the doctor.

"To do my job."

"It's our job."

"And you're benched for this quarter, little brother." Dean said. Sam opened his mouth to disagree. Dean cut him off at the pass. "I need you to keep the doc as leverage. You know this thing's gotta be stopped, Sam."

"Lemme' come with you."

"I need you here. Double check the research. Guard the doc."

Sam's face puffed up like he was about to argue, but it fell back down to a resigned pout a moment later. "Be careful, Dean."

"Always."

Dean drove the squad car to a secluded place, pulled out Doctor Mallard's phone, and dialed Gibbs.

"_Duck. Kinda late. What's up?" _

Dean shivered in the cool air. "Agent Gibbs. I think we need to talk."

He heard the other man inhale deeply over the phone. _"Where's Doctor Mallard, Dean?"_ Gibbs said, getting straight to the point.

Dean smiled. "Oh. He's with Sam. And he's fine…for now." Dean paused. "You help me stop this water spirit; I'll make sure he stays that way."

"_You want my help, you turn yourself in and release my coroner."_

"That's not gonna happen." Dean tensed. "Meet me at 10th and Harrison. I'll be there in thirty. And come alone."


	13. Chapter 13

**_Note: My messenger has been a little flaky lately - so if I wanted to thank everyone who left the reviews and feedback. Also, thanks to the people that left anonymous reviews! This has two more chapters. I'm going to try to post both by the end of next week.__ Hope you enjoy!_**

Dean waited, sitting on the hood of the deputy's car. Tenth and Harrsion was a dark crossroads with dense shrubbery and trees on one side and abandoned buildings on the other. A streetlight illuminated part of the space, but the rest remained shadowed.

He banged his hand against the hood realizing he'd told Gibbs to meet him at a damn crossroads to make a deal. Hadn't even really thought about it. Now that he was here, though, the setting brought up uncomfortable memories. Not to mention the fact it made him worry about the state of his own soul. He shook his head and called Sam to clear out unwanted thoughts. His brother answered immediately.

"_Dean?"_

"Sam. Remember, you keep the doc out of sight until we stop this thing." Sam didn't answer. Dean heard some puttering noise over the line. "Sam?"

"_I got it, Dean." _Sam spoke with that tone he used when he was about to do whatever the hell he wanted and damn everyone else.

"Sam. I mean it. Stick to the plan."

"_I know, Dean. Keep the hostage until you and the feds have caught the monster. Dude, I understand." _Dean sighed. Maybe it was the Scotch and bullet wound. That might make his brother short-tempered.

"Good."

"_You still cold?"_ Sam's tone had changed. Now it sounded like it did when he was about to figure something out. Like all his brain power was charged and revving and he was waiting for the right flag to pull her into drive.

Dean shivered. "No."

"_Bullshit." _Sam said. _"Look, I'll talk to you soon." _ Then the smug sounding bastard hung up on him.

Dean checked his watch. Two more minutes. He tapped the sleek metal of the squad car and dialed the angel. Dean fidgeted. No answer. Again. He stared at the phone, caught between annoyance and worry. He snapped it shut, deciding to concentrate on the matter at hand, as a rebuilt Dodge Charger pulled in front of him. Not a Chevy, but still nice. Gibbs stepped out looking pissed as hell. The man was punctual; Dean would give him that.

Dean swallowed and fixed his face with his most sincere expression. He glanced at the dark lots around the crossroads and rested his pistol against his thigh, aimed at the agent. Gibbs walked up to him with his weapon holstered. Dean peered at the shrubbery again.

"Where's my coroner, Dean?"

He turned back to Gibbs. "I told you to come alone."

Gibbs cocked his head, glancing towards the bushes and back towards Dean. "I'm alone."

"Yeah. I bet." Dean lowered his weapon. "I just want to talk to you, Agent Gibbs. You saw it, right? Seeing is believing. I was hoping you'd be ready to listen to me now." Dean said. Gibbs's expression didn't change. A vague feeling of annoyance washed over Dean. What the hell did it take to convince the guy anyway? "Here." He set the weapon on the ground and slid it forward. "Peace offering."

Gibbs eyed the weapon, but he made no move to pick it up. "Answer my question."

"Like I said. He's with Sam."

"I want to see him."

"Looks like you're going to have to see me instead." Dean smirked.

"Huh." Gibb's eyes moved over Dean stopping briefly at his boot. Dean glanced down at it. There was no way the guy could see the knife hidden there. The older man skimmed his gaze over him again. Then he moved forward quickly, grabbing Dean's jacket and pushing him against the hood. "I'm not doing anything until I know he's safe. Like you said, seeing is believing."

Dean kept still. He held the other man's gaze. Dean needed to gain his trust. Although…maybe nabbing the doctor wasn't the best way to do that. He'd be throwing punches if someone had taken Sam like that.

Gibbs's mouth tightened. "I'm waiting." He pushed Dean further against the hood causing the skin on his back to pinch against the metal.

"Watch it!" Dean huffed, a snarl twisting his lips. "So do you assault all of your suspects or just the ones that you can't keep in custody." He said flipping unconciously into his obnoxious act. Then he clamped his mouth shut. Dammit. Yeah. Great. Dean mentally whacked himself. Feds like Gibbs loved the smartass comments. Dean cleared his throat. "I just want to talk, that's all. The doc is safe. I promise."

Dean expected the man to explode. But he pulled back watching him with something between low building fury and curiosity.

Dean crossed his arms. "You saw it." Dean said again. "It's gonna kill again. And you'll need my help to stop it. I'm, like they say, an expert."

Gibbs lips twitched. He stared at Dean for a long moment and seemed thoughtful as much as angry. A rush of smug triumph shivered through him. Yeah, he was smooth as silk. Hell. This plan might work, after all. Gibbs looked like he was about to speak, but a puttering noise distracted him. Dean turned his head towards the sound. Gibbs cut his eyes in the same direction.

Headlights blinded Dean for a moment. He blocked his eyes with his arm and squinted until a classic Morgan puttered into view. Doctor Mallard drove and Sam sat in the passenger seat…eating cookies. Dean's eyes widened. For fuck's sake. He'd kinda thought the days Sam could be bought with sweets had ended when the kid had turned nine.

Dean crossed his arms. He shifted on his feet, glancing at Gibbs. The agent had his eyebrows raised, watching intently as the doctor and Sam unfolded from the car. Dean let out an exasperated huff. He caught his brother's gaze and held up his hands. _What the hell, Sam?_

Sam rolled his eyes. He walked over with Doctor Mallard, palms in view, and hurt shoulder protected. He kept eye contact with Gibbs and wore his best 'I'm harmless' expression.

Doctor Mallard smiled, clearing his throat. "Jethro…Sam, here, wanted to talk to you."

Dean couldn't take it. He glanced at Gibbs, releasing a tense chuckle; then he zeroed in on Sam. "What the hell, Sam?"

Sam spoke to Gibbs. "We just want to stop this thing. The same as you."

"Sam." Dean growled. "We had a plan."

Sam finally turned towards him. "Dean." The side of his mouth twisted down. "Would you listen to him if he was holding me hostage?"

Maybe…okay...probably not, but so not the point. "And now they hold all the cards. Smooth move, Sam."

"Ducky and I came up with a better plan."

"Really." Dean looked at the doctor. Then back at Sam. "I thought you were smarter than this."

"Dean." The doctor spoke up. "Let us help you."

Dean snorted. "Right." That'd be a cold day in hell. And, as Dean remembered, hell was pretty damn blistering.

"They're good guys." Sam said, huffing. "You have trust issues, man."

Dean couldn't believe he'd heard that right. He stepped back, felt anger brush over him. "I have trust issues? Really? You sure you want to go down that road, Sammy."

Sam had the decency to look sheepish. But he quickly recovered and turned back to Gibbs. "Please. We're here. Just hear us out."

Dean snorted. Gibbs was about to listen to him before Sam arrived. The agent shot him another piercing glance. He reached down to pick up Dean's gun. Yeah. Of course, now he picked it up.

"What happened to your shoulder, Sam?" Gibbs asked.

Dean's irritation shifted from Sam to that damn deputy. "I'll tell you what happened. One of your guys shot him."

Gibbs stared at him. "He tried to pull a gun."

"That what that deputy reported?" Dean said.

"Yep."

Dean felt his face tighten. "Sam was pulling out his ID…"

"His stolen ID?" Gibbs cut in.

Dean's brow furrowed. He continued. "Nice and slow and everything." Dean shook his head. "And Deputy Twitchy just shot him." Dean held up his hands. Felt the disdain show on his face. Gibbs stared at him again, to the point where Dean looked away.

"Okay." Gibbs said finally. "And he's wasn't 'one of my guys'."

Sam cleared his throat, moving forward slowly. "Listen." He handed the bag of cookies to Dean. "Take me into custody and take Dean to help you stop this thing. He won't run away while you are holding me as leverage. Besides, I can help figure out where this thing is going to strike next."

"Wait." Dean looked up from the bag. Damn Sam trying to distract him with food. "Your plan is just like my plan. Only you're the hostage."

"It's a better plan."

"For them." Dean muttered. He reached in and pulled out some cookies. He was going to eat. And not do anything else. If Sam and the damn feds wanted to catch this thing, they could figure out how to do it without him. He stuffed them into his mouth, chewing the bland tasting things into a thick mush.

"Are you pouting?"

Dean smiled, baring his goop covered teeth at his brother.

"Nice." A condescending puff of air blew from Sam's lips. "Mature." He said turning towards Gibbs and the doctor. "Do we have a deal…" Sam's voice trailed off. His eyes followed Doctor Mallard's and Gibbs's to the cookie bag.

"What?" Dean said, frustrated, hungry, and pissed off. "I haven't eaten in two days."

Sam reached out with his good arm and grabbed Dean's wrist. "Dammit, Dean."

Dean looked down. "Huh." There was a large, geometric mark on his wrist. "It's not shaped like a tear-drop."

Sam clenched his jaw. "We need to find out what that means."

Dean was pretty sure it meant he was in the shit, but he decided not to voice that opinion and to eat more of the doctor's Scottish cookies. They were actually pretty damn tasty.

**

Gibbs motioned for Ziva and Tony to come out from the bushes and guard the Winchesters while he pulled Ducky aside.

"You alright?"

"Quite. No harm done, really." Ducky said. "Interesting young men, those two." He glanced over towards Sam and Dean. Sam smiled at them. "For what it's worth, I do believe Dean will cooperate as long as Sam is in custody. Although keeping Sam in custody might be an interesting feat if he decides he wants to escape. He's a clever one. And I'd wager, very well trained."

"Do you think Dean would have hurt you?"

"Hmm. No. I don't think so." Ducky paused, he pursed his lips. "What's your gut telling you, Jethro?"

"It's not telling me either of them is harmless."

"But it's not telling you they're killers, either." Ducky inhaled. "What do you want to do?"

Gibbs didn't reply. He walked back to the others. "Dinozzo. You and Ziva take Sam to headquarters. And stay with him. I don't want him left alone. Not in a bathroom, not in a holding room. Take turns getting some shuteye. Got it."

"Sure thing, boss." Dinozzzo motioned towards Dean. "What about the punk?" Dean shot Tony a death glare.

"He's coming with me." Gibbs grabbed Dean's arm.

"You sure that's a good idea, boss." Tony's face fell a bit. "You don't want back up?"

"I can handle him, Dinozzo. I need you…" Gibbs nodded towards Sam. "To watch the other one."

"Sure thing." Tony motioned Sam towards the corner where the state car was hidden. Sam didn't budge.

"Um…" Sam glanced at his brother, concern written on his features. Then he looked at Gibbs with big eyes. "Okay… but I'm really going to need a laptop."

"You're not exactly in any position to make demands here, Sammy-boy." Tony pulled out his handcuffs.

"Told you, Sam." Dean said under his breath.

Tony continued. "The whole 'most wanted' history sort of negates that." Tony handcuffed Sam and grabbed his elbow. He glanced at Gibbs. "Whatcha think, boss? Should we let the giant here have internet access?"

Gibbs considered it. "Alright." Maybe they'd find out something more about the Winchesters or the case. "But you and Ziva keep him under guard at all times." Gibbs cocked his head. "And have McGee monitor his access." Gibbs paused. "Abby, too, if she wants."

A guilty expression fell across Sam's face at the mention of his forensic scientist. Sam seemed satisfied, though. And with a last concerned look at his brother, he let Tony lead him away.

"Gibbs." Ziva moved forward. "Are you certain you can handle this one?"

"Not a problem, Ziva. I want them separated." Gibbs paused. "Just keep your gun on his brother."

Ziva nodded. She followed Tony and Sam around the corner. Gibbs turned to Dean. The guy looked offended.

"You know, Agent Gibbs, I can be a helluva problem when I want to be." Dean said.

"But you don't want to be." Gibbs held Dean's gaze. "Understand?"

Dean shrugged, pulling his jacket around him tighter. He stuffed another cookie in his mouth.

"Duck, you sure you're okay?" Gibbs said.

The old doctor smiled. "I'll admit it hasn't been the evening I envisioned. But all things considered, I've had worse." Ducky turned his attention to Dean. "Are you certain you don't need medical treatment, Mr. Winchester?"

Dean looked up from the bag of food, seemingly surprised. "Nah. I'm good."

"Very well, then." Ducky shot Gibbs a skeptical look. "I'm off. Hopefully, no more surprises await me at home tonight." He finished, staring pointedly at Dean.

After Ducky drove away, Dean peered at the Dodge Charger. "Nice wheels."

Gibbs shook his head and pushed smart ass towards the car. "Get in."

By the time Gibbs pulled into his driveway, it was well after one in the morning. He ushered Dean inside.

"You don't lock the door?"

"Nope." He motioned to the couch. "Sit." He pulled out his handcuffs and latched them to Dean's wrist and a wooden arm rest.

Dean raised his eyebrows and jingled the cuff. "I'm not really into the kinky shit." He paused. "Or guys. Sorry, man."

Gibbs shook his head. This guy really could use a whack on the back of the head. Gibbs threw a blanket at him instead. "Rest. You've got three hours. Then we get to work. After that, you've got a day to help me find this thing. Screw around again and I'm handing you and Sam over to the FBI."

"Alright." Dean looked at him. "Aren't you worried I'll escape...again."

"Not if you care about your brother." Gibbs walked towards the steps and turned off the light.

He got up three hours later. Dean was missing from the couch. Gibbs heard rummaging in the kitchen. He found Dean with his head stuck in the refridgerator. He looked at Gibbs, his mouth twisting into an uncertain grin.

Dean held half a sandwich towards him. "You like me, dude. Admit it."

Gibbs sighed and didn't take it. "Tell me what you know. All of it."


	14. Chapter 14

Sam sat in a small room with a conference table, a window, and a couch. It was government non-descript in decoration. He grimaced. Pain flooded from his shoulder down towards his wrist where his arm was chained to the table. He hated the table. Actually, right now, Sam hated everything. And despite the fact he only remembered being drunk for a few minutes before the pain of bullet-removal sobered him up, the onset of a bad hangover was hovering around his senses. He watched McGee pull Tony aside.

"Gibbs said for you to call me in to work?" McGee glanced down at his watch. "At four in the morning?"

"That's right, Probie." Tony walked over and slammed his hand on the desk. Ugh. The noise pounded in Sam's skull. He squinted up at him. Tony caught his eyes and grinned. He banged the table again, turning his attention back to McGee and motioning to Sam. "Boss says you have to monitor Crazy Sam's internet access."

Sam put his head into his hands, rubbing his temples. They continued bickering.

"We're giving him internet access?" McGee's tone went high. "Why would Gibbs agree to that?"

"The boss works in mysterious ways, McGee." Tony's voice took on a dreamy quality. "Don't question. Just do."

Sam thought he might be sick. He lifted his head again. McGee watched him with his nose scrunched up and his lips curled into a disgusted line. Oh. Right. McGee hadn't liked him before his identity as a criminal was made known. Sam smiled at him. He didn't really give a damn as long as the agent gave him a laptop so he could figure out what was wrong with his brother.

"Fine." McGee said, leaving the room. "I'll get him the laptop and monitor him. But you're staying here too."

"Of course." Tony crossed his arms. "The boss doesn't want him escaping. Trusts only his best man with that job." He yelled at the closing door. He turned back towards Sam. "Well. At least until Ziva relieves me in a few hours. Or until your brother shows up and makes trouble."

"Dean's with Gibbs." Sam sighed. "I turned myself in four hours ago. Why would I try to escape?"

"Who knows?" Tony leaned down, his face becoming serious. "Between you and me, maybe you're having second thoughts about leaving your brother with the boss. It's only a matter of time before Dean pushes the wrong Gibbs button. And Gibbs pissed off is scarier than any monster you've faced, real or imagined."

McGee came back in and set a laptop in front of Sam. He sat down across from Sam, placing another computer in front of him.

"Alright, Sam." McGee said, cracking his knuckles and turning on his computer. "Let's see what you got."

Sam's lips twitched down. It was going to be a long day.

The door opened a few hours later. Sam's eyes followed McGee's to the doorway. Dean trailed in behind Gibbs. His hands were loosely chained in front of him. Sam frowned. Despite the cuffs, Dean seemed to be carrying a lot of stuff. A backpack. Several cups of coffee in a tray. Sandwiches. Sam glanced at Tony. His mouth was hanging open.

"Dinozzo. McGee." Gibbs moved back towards the hall. "Keep an eye on those two. They try anything, do what you have to."

"Sure thing, boss." Tony said.

"I'll be back in five." Gibbs closed the door.

Dean watched him leave. Then he plopped down beside Sam. "Sammy!" He handed him a sandwich. "Here." He cocked his head glaring at the others. "They treating you okay?"

"Wait up." Tony held up his hand. "You expect us to believe Gibbs, our Gibbs, let you bring Sam a sandwich?" He said. "What do you think, McSidekick?"

"I don't know, Tony." McGee stood up. "Gibbs doesn't usually let criminals bring food."

Dean glanced between them, annoyance falling over his face. "I asked the guy if I could bring Sam a sandwich."

"And Gibbs said yes?" Tony asked.

"Dude, it was implicit."

"Implicit." Tony scrunched his nose. "And what does that mean?"

McGee leaned in and whispered. "Tony…implicit means 'understood' or…" Seeing the look of death Tony was sending him, he trailed off.

Tony turned back to Dean. "Let's hear it."

"It means…" Dean's lips curled. "I told him I wanted to bring the kid a sandwich and he didn't say no."

Tony and McGee exchanged a glance. McGee moved closer to Tony. "You know, Tony. That does kinda sound like the boss."

Sam had had enough. He grabbed Dean's wrist and turned it over. "I know what this means." Sam opened his mouth to continue.

"Hold up." Dean said. "Dude, wait for Gibbs to get back." Sam blinked at him. Dean shook his head. "Hey, man. It was your idea to turn ourselves in and work with these bozos. I'm just going along with it."

"Bozos?" Gibbs's voice rang out.

Sam looked to the door. He hadn't even heard the man come back.

"Uh…" Dean grinned, looking sheepish. "I was talking about them." He said, pointing to McGee and Tony.

Gibbs leaned in between Dean and Sam and spoke in low, harsh words. "They…" He said, motioning to McGee and Tony. "Aren't the clowns that tried to infiltrate my team."

Sam looked away. "Um…right." He cleared his throat and gave his attention to Dean. He felt the others listening. "The wodnik's marked you."

Dean glanced down at his wrist. "Well. Yeah. But we didn't even get here until the first few deaths had occurred. And the damn thing wasn't at the pond when I was there. No one was home."

"It's not like the marks on the others. Those deaths are like a punishment for the community. Eight deaths for the insult to the wodnik's territory by…you know…people, in general."

"Okay." Dean said.

Sam could tell he wasn't getting it yet. "This." He said grabbing his brother's wrist. "Is to punish a personal insult by an individual." Sam continued before Dean could speak. "And the wodnik is connected to the pond, it doesn't have to be 'home' to mark you."

Dean frowned. "But I didn't do anything to piss the thing off."

"No?" Sam said. "Right. I'm sure you made a great impression when you interviewed the thing." Sam said.

"Okay. One, I didn't know it was parading around like the medic then. And…" Dean's words took on a defensive undertone. "Two, I didn't have the mark after that."

"And, then you jumped into the pond. I'm sure it loved that." Sam shook his head. "Besides, you're always pissing things off." He said accusingly. "From what I found out, for a personal…uh…" Sam searched for the right word. "…hit…the individual it marked grows colder and colder. Then, they become wet and miserable like they've been in the water for a prolonged period, and, finally, the monster shows up and drowns the person."

"Huh." Dean looked thoughtful. "I'm not that cold." He said under his breath.

"Wait." Tony laughed. Sam looked over at him. Tony continued "You're saying the strange, watery man Gibbs and I ran into is a monster? I mean, I was figuring some sort of mutant. You know, radiation, government conspiracies, full on X-files conspiracy. Really. If you going for crazy; that's the better angle to play."

"It's a monster. Sorry, Scully." Dean said his mouth quirking up at the look of offense on Tony's face. "That's the truth."

Sam watched as Tony caught Gibbs's attention. "You buying this, boss?"

Gibbs looked thoughtful. And Sam had no idea if he believed them or not. He actually didn't think Gibbs cared that much as long as it helped him stop the deaths and catch the culprit.

"Heh." Dean laughed, glancing back down at his wrist. "How long till this thing comes after me?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I think it depends on how mad it is at you."

Dean looked at Sam. Then he glanced around the room at the others. "So…." He said. "We all agree this things going after someone sometime tomorrow. And we only know the identity of one of the three potential vics. Right?"

McGee turned to Gibbs and sighed. "Abby and I did find the same pattern, boss."

"But now I'm marked too." Dean held up his wrist again, grinning like an idiot. "Just take me back to the pond. Sam's right. I'm pretty awesome at pissing things off. I'll upset the thing enough that he'll come after me first. Then, you guys shoot the bastard in each eye. And…_Bang_. One dead wodnik. No more deaths."

Sam caught his brother's eyes and glowered at him. Dean turned away, catching Gibb's gaze.

"You expect me to take you to the pond again?" Gibbs said. "After the stunt you pulled last time?"

"You didn't have Sam last time." Dean said pointedly. "Besides, crazy or not, I think you know I'm serious about stopping this thing."

Gibbs didn't answer. He just cocked his head and contemplated Dean's estimate of the situation. Sam may have only known the man a few days, but, like Dean, he understood an implicit 'yes' when he saw it. Sam felt his face heat. Blood pumped through his veins, beating hard against the vessel walls. The pain in his shoulder intensified with his burst of anger.

Dean's face fell into a concerned grimace as he saw his expression. "It's a good plan, Sam." Dean said. Sam's expression must have darkened more because frustration flooded into his brother's words and features. "I make great bait." He grinned but sounded far from amused. "Everything wants a piece of me."

And wasn't that the exact problem. "I won't be there to back you up." Sam said in a low and angry growl. He raised his voice, making sure that everyone in the room heard his next sentence. "I don't trust them to take care of it." He tapped his hand on the table, glowering at the others.

Gibbs watched him with a strange expression. Like he was seeing something in Sam he hadn't recognized before. Sam held his gaze.

"Doesn't look like you have a choice." Gibbs said in a calm, controlled, irritating tone.

"If anything happens to him, I'm holding you responsible. All of you." Sam didn't care that he sounded every bit the psycho his file said he was. "He's been through, enough." He added silently. Sam bit his lip and glared down at the table.

He heard Dean let loose an unsure chuckle. "Don't pay attention to Sammy over here. He's always pissy this time of the month." Sam felt his brother pat him on the shoulder. "He doesn't mean it."

"Like hell I don't." Sam said, locking his gaze with his brother.

Dean sighed. "You said to trust them, Sam." His brother motioned to the room. "That's what I'm doing."

Sam pursed his lips, looking down at his lap. "Fine." He said. "Just…" He glanced at Gibbs, then back at his lap, feeling the blood drain from his face. "Just…don't let him do anything stupid."

_**Note: Probably about two more chapters to go or so!**_


	15. Chapter 15

Gibbs made a decision. "Dinozzo. You're with me. Tell Ziva I want her in here, guarding Sam."

"Got it, boss. I'll get the gear." Tony opened the door and stepped out. "Meet you at the car."

Gibbs pulled Dean up by his elbow. The kid felt cold through the fabric of his shirt. "Don't make me regret this."

Frustration flooded Dean's face. "You do get I'm the one trusting you, right?" Gibbs stared at him, letting him think about the situation. Dean shifted on his feet. "I'm just saying regret can go both ways."

Gibbs yanked him towards the door and turned to McGee. "McGee, find out who else is in danger. I want to know who. I want to know why."

"Sure thing, boss."

"Um…" Sam spoke up from where he'd been pouting. "I really can help with that."

Gibbs didn't respond. He glanced at his watch. Regardless of his gut instinct, he wasn't about to leave someone with Sam's record and training alone with less than two agents. Dean fidgeted beside him.

"So…Agent Gibbs…we gonna do this anytime soon. Or…"

Gibbs glared at him. Dean clamped his mouth shut. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Beside him, Dean began humming. He stopped when he realized McGee and Sam were staring at him.

Gibbs heard voices in the hall. Ziva peeked in the room.

"Gibbs. May I talk with you?"

Gibbs turned to Dean. "Stay. Understand."

Dean nodded. Gibbs waited. The kid stared at him, exasperation falling over his features. "Dude, okay." He trailed off, looking thoughtful. "I mean…" He said, his face twisting in understanding. "Yes, Agent Gibbs."

"Falling in line, huh, Dean?" Gibbs heard Sam mutter under his breath as he walked out.

Ziva led him around the corner to a man in a trenchcoat. Guards flanked him on either side, but he seemed unconcerned. Ziva cleared her throat. "This is Castiel. I found him wandering the halls. He says he is here for Dean Winchester."

Gibbs eyebrows rose. "Where's your visitor's tag?" Gibbs said, indicating the place where the ID should hang.

The man stared straight at him. He followed his gaze to his own chest without blinking. "Is Dean here?" He spoke in a deep voice. "He said the matter was urgent."

Ziva kept her eyes on him, expression clearly suspicious. "I called the gate. They have no record of a 'Castiel' signing into the building."

The man turned to her, expression unchanging. "I did not enter through the gate."

"Then who…" Gibbs stepped into his space. "…exactly are you? And how the hell did you get in here."

Castiel did not seem fazed by the intrusion in his personal space. But his expression took on the hint of impatience. "Where is Dean? He was adamant when he called me."

Gibbs got the impression he wouldn't get anything out of the man until he saw Dean. He motioned to Ziva. "Bring him." He said, walking back towards the room.

Dean and Sam wore twinned expressions of recognition when the saw Castiel. Dean's face fell into an easy smile.

"Cas." He said. "Dude, I've been calling you for three days." He sounded frustrated when he continued. "Where the hell have you been? You know how to check your messages, right?"

"Dean…" Sam warned.

"Uh…Boss?" McGee motioned to the man.

"This is Castiel." Gibbs said, fixing a hard glare at Dean. "He's here for Dean."

Dean blinked. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at Sam and then Castiel before returning to meet Gibbs's gaze. "Yeah. Uh. Cas is…um…he's my…" Dean seemed to be thinking very hard about whatever lie he was about to spin. Gibbs tightened his gaze at him.

Castiel turned to Gibbs. "I am an ang…"

"Our lawyer." Sam finished. "He's our lawyer."

Castiel looked at Sam, slight confusion evident in his features.

"That right, Castiel?" Gibbs said. "You're their lawyer?"

"I am an…" He started.

"Our lawyer." Sam finished again.

Dean jumped into the conversation. "Yeah. Cas is our lawyer, our advocate. Right, Cas?"

Castiel cocked his head. Gibbs got the impression he was just catching on to the ruse. He turned back to Gibbs. "Yes. I am Dean's…and Sam's…advocate." He blinked once. "I would like to speak with them in private."

"Sure…" Gibbs said. "As soon as you show me some identification and proof you are who you say you are; you can have all the time you need."

"Your permission is not required." He locked eyes with Gibbs.

"Whoa." Dean looked nervously between them. "No need for that. I was…uh…hoping that Cas could…do something…" He paused giving the man a knowing look. "To…um…get our car and weapons released from evidence."

"Wait." Sam sounded annoyed. "This is your plan to get the car? Call the…call Castiel."

"You have a better idea, Sam?"

Castiel gazed at Sam, pursing his lips in concern. "You are injured." He turned back to Dean. "And your temperature is quite low. Why are you cold?"

"Right…" Dean said. "Can you do any of your mojo on a wodnik?"

Gibbs inhaled. There was no mention of a Castiel in any of the files on either Winchester. But it was obvious he was part of the team.

"If you are asking if I can smite one of the abominations of the water…no. My powers are severely limited with my separation from my brothers." He paused. "This is why you are cold?"

"Yeah." Dean said. "Okay. Then you stay here and work on the…uh…car problem." He paused, then added in rushed, commanding words. "But don't do anything until I get back. You understand?"

"The car? Is this the emergency you called me about?" Castiel said. Gibbs had the impression of the man sighing, but no air blew from his lips. Castiel continued. "My concern is for you, Dean…and your brother. Not your possessions."

"Right." Dean said. "Just wait. Okay?"

"There are other, more pressing, concerns." Castiel paused, contemplative. "However, since it is important to you, I will wait."

"See." Dean smiled at Gibbs. "We're all friends here."

Gibbs shook his head.

"Gibbs?" Ziva motioned to the man. "What shall we do with him?"

"Put him in Interview One." Gibbs said. "Keep him and Sam apart. He wants to wait, let him wait."

**

Dean closed his eyes as Gibbs drove back to the pond. He thought about the Mojave desert and hot sauce and other warm things to hold back the creeping cold that inched through his body.

"So, boss. How do you want to play this one?" Tony asked from the backseat. Dean opened his lids and turned towards the driver's seat.

Gibbs reached down and turned up the heat. "You draw him out hiding." He said to Dean. "Dinozzo, we'll take opposite sides." Gibbs paused, he shook his head like he didn't like what he was about to say. "He shows up and doesn't surrender…shoot for the eyes."

"It." Dean said. "He's an it." Gibbs cut his eyes at him. Dean's shifted in his seat, turning his attention towards the back. "You're a good shot, right?" He asked Tony.

"You kidding me? When I was with Baltimore PD they used to call me 'doesn't miss Dinozzo'. You know, because of my great skill and poise with a gun. There's a problem; the boss and I have it covered." Tony paused. "And don't try to run or we'll shoot you instead."

"Fair enough." Dean pulled his shirt tighter around him. The car grew silent. "You know…" He said, wanting to make conversation and thinking Tony might be a bit more talkative than Gibbs. "I was arrested in Baltimore once."

**

The pond glinted in the sunlight when they arrived. Dean scanned the area for civilians.

"It's a crime scene. Off limits to the public." Gibbs grabbed his cuffs and unlocked the chain. Dean felt tension he didn't realize he'd had leave his muscles as they chains fell away.

"Thanks." He rubbed his wrists.

Gibbs motioned him toward the water. "Do it."

**

Sam bit back his concern for Dean. He sighed. He still needed to determine the wodnik's other potential victims in case Dean wasn't able to draw it out. He pulled up injury records from the local paper. The screen froze. Sam hit the space bar. Twice. A window popped up. _Access denied_. He tilted his head and reread it. Sam inhaled deeply, his gaze moving from the screen to the agent across from him.

"Look, man." Sam tried to keep his tone reasonable. "That's public information." It must have come out stronger than Sam intended because he saw Ziva move her hand to her sidearm and eye him wearily. Sam softened his expression. "I'm trying to help."

"Sorry." McGee squinted at him. "I didn't block your access." He turned back down to his laptop. "Maybe…" He sounded smug. "Your computer skills just aren't that good."

Sam's shoulder and head pounded. "_Someone_ blocked my computer access." Neither McGee nor Ziva seemed to care. Sam tapped some of the keys a few more times, rubbing his temple. The connection remained frozen.

Four minutes and a lot of frustration later, there was a knock at the door. McGee straightened in his seat. He nodded to Ziva who carefully opened it. She relaxed almost immediately.

"Abby." Ziva said. "You should not be here…"

"Gibbs said I could be here if I wanted to be here." Abby pushed her way inside, looking cross. Sam shrank down in his seat. She sat in the chair beside him. "You lied to me, Sam." She said accusingly.

"Yeah…uh…" Sam bit his bottom lip. He had a good idea who had blocked his connection now. He cleared his throat and caught her eyes. "I'm really sorry." He said, offering her a small smile.

"Oh no." She shielded her eyes with her hand. "No. You don't get to use the sad eyes and the dimples on me again." She put her hand back down and glared at Sam. "Did you even consider telling me the truth."

"I didn't think…"

"No, Sam. You didn't think." Abby tightened her expression more. "Why should I believe you're sorry, when all you've done is lie to me? And a scribbled I'm sorry note does not suffice."

"I know." Sam sank lower in his seat. "I guess I wanted you to like me. And if…if you knew who I really was, whether you believed me or not…I just didn't think it would have been possible." Sam leaned towards her. "I'm sorry. I know it's not much, but it is the truth."

Her glare faltered. She pointed at him. "This doesn't mean I'm forgiving you."

"Okay." Sam leaned back again. His gut was twisting with worry and now with renewed guilt. He shifted in his seat. "Ow!" He grabbed at his shoulder. Dammit. It hurt like a son of a bitch. He tried to move into a more comfortable position. McGee, Ziva, and Abby stared at him.

"Sam." Abby's face fluctuated between angry and concerned for a moment. Then it settled into a careful, concerned expression. "Are you alright?"

"Abby. It could be a ploy." Ziva said, moving closer.

"It's not…" Sam sighed. "It's not a ploy. It's nothing, okay. I'm just sore from getting shot."

Abby's eyes grew big. "You got shot?"

Sam frowned. He'd assumed she already knew. Great. Now she'd think he was starting gun fights on top of everything else. "Look, I was just pulling out my ID." Sam grimaced, looking away. "I wasn't doing anything." He added in a whisper. Sam startled as she jumped up from her seat.

"I'll get Ducky to look at it." She shot McGee and Ziva disapprovingly glares. "If you're hurting it should be checked."

"It's nothing, and he's the one who patched me up. He doesn't need to look at it again, Abby. I probably just pulled the stitches."

"Of course it's necessary." She turned back to him. "And Sam?" She said. He looked at her. She took in a deep breath. "I'm beginning to consider forgiving you. Not because you're hurt, but because part of me wants to believe you. You have that strange, mysterious thing going. But it still feels more strange good than strange bad to me. So…I may forgive you. One day. In the far future. If you don't blow it."

Sam nodded. "Thanks." He cleared his throat. "I really…" He paused. Another apology wouldn't mean much of anything. "Thank you." He said instead.

**

Dean's voice was hoarse from cursing and yelling at the pond. He'd also turned over the contents of two trashcans onto one of the banks. And it was starting to work. He was fucking freezing now and couldn't stop the trembles that ran through his body. His boots squished with water when he took a step. His hair was damp. Oh yeah. He grinned. It was like he'd been swimming in the pond again. He glanced toward where Gibbs and Tony were hiding and gave them the thumbs up. That bastard was definitely coming for him.

Dean yelled at the pond again, but his words caught in his throat. He felt ice water force it way into his airway. He opened his mouth to shout and water poured out, cutting off the sound. He turned around rapidly, waving his arms to alert the others. Where was it? Dean glanced to the left. Then to the right. He heard yelling, but the sound was distorted like he was submerged in the water. Maybe he'd be dragged into the pond?

He turned around and he saw the sonuvabitch. In his watery haze, the thing looked less human. It was grotesque with slimy looking skin and hollow eyes. Dean gasped for breath, taking in only more freezing water. Where the hell were the feds? He fell to his knees. Shit. Oh shit. He was going to drown and Sam was going to go full on psycho.

Dean grappled for the knife in his boot. The monster leered down at him. Oh yeah. He'd cut out the bastards eyes with his switchblade if he had to. He tried to stand, but his legs weren't functioning quite right. He lunged out, but hit nothing. Damn thing had moved. He landed on the ground in a sad heap. The hard ground. Not in the pond, then. It was a strange sensation to be drowning out of the water. He struggled to get up. Gasping for air again and taking in only water.

Dean heard a faint shot ring out. Then another. Then a third. He couldn't get up. He heard a fourth and fifth shot. Then things went kinda dim.

A hand patted his back. He coughed, water flooding out. This time when he gasped for breath, he felt air rush back in. He sputtered more water out, thrashing around on the ground.

"He's coming round, boss." He heard Tony's voice say clearly. Dean opened his eyes. Actually, he hadn't realized they were closed. Gibbs and Tony were staring down at him. Tony grimaced. "Good thing, too. The boss wanted me to give you mouth to mouth."

Dean frowned up at Gibbs. "I'd rather drown." He told him. "You get it?" Dean followed Gibbs's gaze to a bloated figure a few feet away.

"Yep." Gibbs said. "Can you get up?"

Dean smirked. "Hell, yeah." He said. Although, honestly, he wasn't really sure he could walk.


	16. Chapter 16

It took most of the morning to process the scene. By lunchtime, though, everyone had returned from the pond. Gibbs stood beside Tony in the viewing room.

"What did you do with Winchester?" Tony said, turning away from the glass separating the viewing room from the interrogation room.

A wry smile fell over Gibbs's lips. "Which one?"

"Hmmm." Tony thought about it. "Both?"

Gibbs lips twitched down. "Ziva and McGee are still guarding the one that got shot and Ducky's with the one that almost drowned." He sighed. What the hell was he going to do with the two of them? He glanced inside at the man at the table. Castiel caught his eyes.

"I swear, boss. I think he can see us."

"Has he done anything interesting?"

"Other than creepily stare at me through the glass?" Tony jumped back and forth. Castiel's gaze followed the movement. "No."

Gibbs nodded towards the man. "Go talk to him, Dinozzo."

Tony left. Gibbs watched as he reappeared at the door to the interview room.

"Castiel." Tony said, sitting down across from him. "Castiel…Castiel…So…"

"Yes." He peered at Tony with a curious expression.

"How do you know Dean and Sam Winchester?"

"As Dean said, I am their advocate."

"The FBI has collected a huge…huge…" Tony held up his hands about a foot apart. "…file on those two." He leaned back, chuckling. "They certainly need an advocate."

"Yes." Castiel cocked his head. "They do. I want to speak with them now. I have waited long enough."

"I'm thinking about it." Tony said. "Answer my questions, and maybe I'll let you see them."

"You cannot keep me here."

The statement fell strangely on Gibbs's ears. Not like 'you have no reason to keep me', more of 'you do not have the physical power to keep me'.

Gibbs watched as Tony raised an eyebrow. He'd also heard the meaning in the statement.

"Hmmm." Tony said. "So…how did you meet Dean and his brother?"

"I came to care for them after I pulled Dean from hell." Castiel paused. "I wish to speak to them now. I am attempting to respect your rules, but my ultimate concern is greater than the laws of man."

"That's sort of an unfortunate stance…you know…for a lawyer." Tony waited, held his gaze. Castiel didn't speak. Tony continued. "Of course, the Winchesters are wanted for torture, robbery, murder…blah, blah, blah, the list goes on and on…and on. They don't seem real concerned with the laws of man, either."

Castiel cocked his head. He peered into Tony's eyes in a way Gibbs was certain unnerved him, though Tony's expression didn't change. Finally, the man spoke.

"You do not believe them to be guilty and your judgment is correct." He paused, blinked once. "As I am their lawyer, you are required to grant me audience, correct?"

Tony didn't answer. "So…hell, huh? That near Detroit?"

Castiel's face scrunched in confusion. "Perdition lies beyond the realm of human perception. Detroit is in Michigan."

"So that's a yes."

"No." The man's face became harder. "I would like to see Dean and Sam now."

"Alright. Alright." Tony stood up. "I'll run it by Agent Gibbs." He left the room.

Gibbs met him in the hall. "What's your feel on this one?" He said.

"Ugh." Tony shuddered. "I think this case gets freakier and freakier, boss. And Freaky in there…" He pointed towards the interview room. "Is the freakiest of all." Tony's face fell into thought. "How long do you want to keep him here? I mean, the only thing we have on him is that he was wandering the halls."

"He can wait a little longer." Gibbs turned to go to the elevator. "Keep an eye on him, Dinozzo." Gibbs didn't turn back to see the look of distaste on his senior agent's face. He grinned. Because he knew it was there.

Gibbs went downstairs and walked into autopsy. Three armed guards stood towards the back of the room. The body of the fake medic lay in a bloated heap on one table. Dean was sitting on the other with Ducky squinting at him, seemingly impressed.

"Well, young man, for someone who apparently came very close to drowning this morning, you are astonishingly healthy." Ducky patted him on the back.

"How is he?" Gibbs asked. The doctor turned to him.

"He's fine, Gibbs. Quite remarkable, really."

"Yeah. That's what I'm always telling people." Dean's lips twitched up. "So…" He swallowed, looking between the Doctor and Gibbs. "What are you gonna do with me, now?"

"You and Sam have quite a file." Gibbs inhaled. "It's not going to be pretty." Gibbs paused, released his breath. "I'll do what I can."

"Yeah." Dean swung his legs and hopped off the table. "You mean, like making sure Sam and I live long enough to make it to trial?" He said with a sardonic undertone.

"Yep." Gibbs peered at him. "To start with."

Dean looked down. When he looked up and spoke again he sounded sincere. "Thanks." He crossed his arms and lifted his eyebrows. "Can I at least speak with my brother and our lawyer? Please."

"You mean Castiel?" Gibbs said making no attempt to hide his skepticism.

"Yeah." Dean bit his lip and watched Gibbs.

Gibbs held his gaze. "You're…lawyer…says he pulled you out of hell. You want to explain that?"

Dean's body tensed. His mouth thinned into a hard line. "No." He said.

Gibbs glanced at Ducky. The doctor watched Dean curiously. Dean fidgeted on his feet. He inhaled. His frame seemed to loosen when he breathed out.

"Look…" Dean said. "I haven't done half of the things the FBI has charged me with...Sam's done even less. And Cas…he doesn't have so much as a parking ticket."

Gibbs could see Dean holding his breath. Gibbs held no illusions that Cas was a lawyer. He remained silent.

Dean cleared his throat. "I just want a few minutes alone with them before the crap hits the fan. Once the FBI has us, we'll be lucky to see each other at all. I need a moment to talk to them. Look, put us in a locked room with no exits. That's all I'm asking for."

Gibbs sighed. The guy had almost died helping them. "I'll give you five minutes." Of course, he'd also been a pain in the ass all week. "No more."

Dean broke out in a huge grin as Gibbs led him out.

**

Sam fidgeted in his seat. McGee sat across from him, Abby beside him, and Ziva stood near the door with her hand on her weapon and an amused grin on her face.

"When can I see my brother?"

Ziva smiled at him. "When Gibbs says you can see him."

Sam huffed. "But he's alright?"

"Yes."

"Sam." Abby leaned towards him. "You need to relax or you'll open your wound again. Ducky can't keep coming up here. Let's get back to work."

Sam gave her half a smile. For someone who was only partially forgiving him, she was being quite attentive. Her face creased in confusion.

"So…you hunt and kill supernatural things?"

"Abby…" McGee snorted. "I don't think this is what Gibbs had in mind."

"We've closed the drowning cases, McGee. I'm moving forward." Abby shot him a death glare, before turning back to Sam. She waited.

"Uh…yeah." Sam cast his eyes down. "It's…like…the family business."

"I'm not saying it was okay for you to lie to me. But I understand why you didn't think I'd believe you."

"Oh." He looked back up. "Does that mean you believe me?"

"Well no." Abby said. "Not exactly. I'm a scientist, Sam. I need proof to show that spirits and ghosts and things exist. But I don't have any proof they don't exist, either. I am decidedly skeptical and open to all possibilities."

McGee leaned over his laptop. "Then why are we doing this?"

"McGee." Abby smiled at him. "You're doing this for me because we're friends and I love you. I'm doing this for Sam because if he's not crazy, a database is an excellent way to keep track of all the baddies."

McGee frowned. "Gibbs isn't going to like this." He punched a few keys on his keyboards. "Hauntings. Done. What's next?"

"Thank you, Timothy." Abby turned back towards Sam. She looked excited. "Alright. Get ready McGee. Now, I want to know about vampires, Sam."

"Oh." Ziva beamed at them. "You must decapitate them to kill them. I am right?"

Sam gazed over at her surprised and nodded. "Uh…yeah. That's right."

"Wow. Excellent Ziva." Abby motioned to McGee. "Put that in McGee."

Tony walked in a minute later. He glanced around the room and shook his head. "Gibbs is going to let Sam meet with his creepy, freaky lawyer."

Sam straightened up. "Bye. Abby." Ziva unchained him from the table.

They brought Sam to a small room with a door and no windows. Sam didn't even see a vent. Cas sat at the table. Dean leaned against the wall in handcuffs. Gibbs stood at the entrance.

"You've got five minutes." Gibbs said, closing the door and leaving them alone.

Sam scanned the room. "You think they're listening? Or watching?"

Dean snorted. "Don't know. Don't care." He turned to Cas. "Just zap us and our stuff out of here."

"Dean." Sam held up his hand. "Maybe they'll just let us go. I mean, they know we aren't responsible for the recent deaths. And, I think they may come around." Sam caught his eyes.

"Look, Romeo," Dean said, "I heard that you just made up with your new girlfriend, but they can't let us go. We're not-so-dead, most-wanted men and half the building has seen us. It doesn't matter if they believe we're innocent or not." Dean glanced at them both. "It's better for everybody involved if we just disappear. Trust me."

Cas reached out and touched Dean's cuffs. They fell away. He did the same to Sam's chains. "It will take considerable effort to transport the car."

"We're not leaving my baby, Cas." Dean said in fast, hard words. "C'mon. Do it. Now."

**

Gibbs told them five minutes. But after two, his instincts shouted something was up. He opened the door and found an empty room. Tony walked in after him.

Gibbs reached down and picked up two pairs of open handcuffs. He held them up. Tony peaked around at them.

"Wow." Tony said. "I mean, wow." He shook his head. "These guys are good, boss. I mean…" He waved his arms around the room. "There's no way out of here."

**

Gibbs sat at his desk. "Anything, Dinozzo?"

"Two days and nothing. No sign of Sam. No sign of Dean. And no sign of Creepy Castiel. They've vanished."

McGee spoke up. "I might have something, boss." Gibbs looked over at him. "A motel in Rockport, Colorado reported a strange disturbance yesterday from the room of two men that checked in two days ago under the names Tyler and Perry. Two of the perps' favorites. Said they were driving a big, black car." McGee looked up from his computer. "Could be our guys."

"I do not know." Ziva scrunched her face and tapped her pen on her desk. "They would have had to arrive in Colorado the same day they escaped. I do not think that is possible."

Gibbs pursed his lips. His phone rang. He picked it up, listened and put it down. He looked at his team. "Dead marine near Arlington." He stood up. "Grab your gear."

"Uh…boss." McGee stood up as well. "Does this mean we're off the other case?"

"We closed our case, McGee." Gibbs picked up his pack. "That's the FBI's territory."

"Right…" McGee paused. "So…should I send the info we collected to them?" McGee asked. Tony and Ziva paused to watch Gibbs as well.

Gibbs stilled. He shook his head. "Let the FBI do their own work, McGee." He stomped toward the elevator. "Hurry it up." He shouted. "We haven't got all day."

**

Dean sat with Sam in the diner overlooking the Colorado mountains. It had been several days and neither his nor Sam's face had showed back up on the most-wanted list.

"You still working on that database?" Dean said. "Waste of time, Sammy."

"It's a great idea." Sam peered up and glared. "We need electronic back-up, Dean. The journal won't last forever. And carrying all the books around with us is impractical."

Dean shrugged. He took a huge bite of his cheeseburger and smiled across at Sam. Sam looked up from his computer again and then looked away, slumping in his seat. Confusion hit Dean. Sam looked guilty as hell. Dean's felt his brow's knit as he watched his brother.

"What?" Dean said through a mush of food.

Sam looked up. The side of his lip turned down in disgust. "Gibbs called me." He said.

Dean's mouth fell open. "What?"

"Well, I mean, he left me a message." Sam said, like that made everything make sense.

"What?" Dean said again trying to chew his food.

"Um…see, when I got away the first time…I'd left Abby a note with my number, in case. Well, in case she ever needed it, and I guess she must have given it to him… because… you know…he called."

Dean's eyes got big. He struggled to swallow. Damn Sam. Sneaky bastard had waited until he couldn't talk so Dean wouldn't be able to yell at him. Dean concentrated. The food finally went down.

He leaned towards Sam and glowered. "Well?"

Sam looked down at his sandwich. He chuckled. "He pretty much said that if he catches either of us near any of his people or Virginia or anywhere again he's gonna tear us apart." Sam bit at his lip. "Put us in a cell, throw away the key…well…you get the picture."

"What else, Sam."

Sam sighed. "He left me his cell phone number."

Dean blinked. He leaned back. He and Sam stared at each other for a long minute. Dean let a smirk fall across his face. "Of course he did. Dude loves me."

Sam snorted. "Dude wants to see if you're stupid enough to call so he can find and arrest your ass."

"Maybe." Dean said. He stuffed the rest of his burger in his mouth. "Give it to me." Dean pulled out his cell.

"Dean." Sam said slowly. "We can't call him."

Dean huffed. "I know Sam." He motioned for Sam to hurry up and give him the number. "I want to put it in my contacts list."

_THE END_

_Note: Thanks to everyone for reading!  
_


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